


Wish I Was Here

by NobodyOfficial



Category: Wish I Was Here (2014)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Asexual Character, Attempted Suicide, Bisexual Character, Body Positivity, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, I figured I could name it after the film since there's no other fanfic out there, M/M, Probably more tags to be added, Severe Depression, can't believe I missed the most important tag, here I go writing for a non existent fandom again, i do love these boys though I think this is some of my best writing, mentiojed drug abuse, please heed the trigger warnings, utter apathy to death, we do get to the relationship eventually I promise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-01-28 21:25:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 36,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12615852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NobodyOfficial/pseuds/NobodyOfficial
Summary: Y'know Zach Braff's awesome film Wish I Was Here about dealing with death, and Josh Gad played Noah Bloom, sulky, depressed genius with relationship issues who hates anything that can't be found in his trailer? Well, I'm trash so I gave him a (vaguely referenced in the film) best friend/boyfriend who loves exercise and the outdoors and fun-loving and body positive and also has crippling depression but you'd never know it.They're soft. It's positive. But it's also quite angsty, so please read the trigger warnings at the beginning of each chapter. Ultimately everyone should be happy-ish in the end.These are short stories, so technically this work is always finished, but hit me up on tumblr if you have any prompts :)





	1. Halloween

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing a lot of these so thought I'd collect them on ao3. I'm not saying they're great, they're just some of the better things I've written. I'm basically all my other work is shittier than this.
> 
> Anyway:  
> -depression  
> -mentions of suicide

Noah liked pretending to be someone else.

When he was younger it had just been a dramatic flair; he was a creative child who thrived off positivity, and theatre certainly awarded him a lot of attention. But as he grew older he became more reserved, saving his creativity for online forums and the notebook he kept under his mattress. His desperation to be someone else manifested itself as a need to disappear altogether. He became shadowy, silent, insular. In his mind he'd fabricate a million situations in which he got to be someone he wasn't; popular, rich, funny, loved. But never again did he strive for the deceitful calmness that came with donning a theatre mask.

Except on Halloween.

Before Aidan had reached middle school Noah had been complaining that Halloween was immature and futile. Why should he humiliate himself for adults’ amusement for the sake of empty (and usually off-brand) calories? But each year he was given the opportunity to opt out and each year he never took it.

Their mother had loved to sew, taking requests from the boys each year and making them unique costumes. Noah’s father would always suggest they dressed their chubby pre-schooler as a pumpkin or a kitten, something he could snap a picture of and coo to his friends about. But Noah demanded better. He wanted to be Albert Einstein; Theodore Roosevelt; Harriet Tubman. His brother always took a more traditional approach to Halloween, asking to be a spaceman or a werewolf or, during a fatal attempt to impress a girl, a vampire.

As he grew older Aidan lost interest in the usual festivities of Halloween, instead attending parties their father didn't know about, slapping on a cheap Walmart mask as means of a costume. Picking up on social cues from his peers, Noah realised he was rapidly becoming too old for trick or treating, so instead focused his efforts on costume making. They never made it outside of his bedroom, but he was an internet sensation by twelve.

However by fifteen Noah had lost interest in everything, costumes included. From then on Halloween was passed the same as every day; with monotonous scrolling through the internet. In fact, he didn't think he'd done anything else for the past twenty years. His creativity hadn't ebbed, simply been pushed to the side. He couldn't be bothered with it anymore. Everything was tiring.

He didn't know what had resurrected his old passion for Halloween. Maybe it was the nostalgia of childhood, or the fact that he'd found some god thread and couldn't bear to let it go to waste. Or, more likely, he was in the mood for junk food and didn't want to leave the trailer park.

If your costume was enticing enough you'd get candy no matter what your age.

Noah had started small, too hesitant to recreate one of his previous masterpieces for fear he'd lost his touch. An old suit, or rather a brand new suit he'd never worn, embroidered with gold thread until it resembled an enchanted thorn bush. Unsatisfied, he'd then hemmed a black shirt in the same gold and constructed a masquerade mask out of papier-mâché. The finished product was the brooding hero of a gothic novel: mysterious, dignified, flamboyant.

People were unscrupulous with their distribution of Halloween candy. They gave Noah chocolate bars and handfuls of sour sweets just like they would any child, ever so often with a comment on how ‘nice’ his costume was. He thought he deserved better than nice.

When people left buckets by their doors Noah shamelessly robbed them. Several people had fruit hurled back at their caravans. He ate as he wondered round and quickly realised he felt more empty than hungry. Either way, the sugar helped.

Finally, once he'd looped the park as many times as he found conceivable, he returned to his own caravan. It was a mess, as usual. Rotting picnic table that had been there since before he moved in. Debris and scrap metal, most of which people had dumped there assuming the caravan was empty. Even the very walls of the caravan were beginning to rust. As Noah put his bag down on the steps all he could think was ‘same’.

He should have been content then to return to his pitch black solitude, surf the internet until sunrise, then sleep for far too long, until it was dark again. But he couldn't.

Noah felt restless, which was unusual. He could stare at the floor for five hours straight and barely notice the passing of time. But now suddenly he was craving something more. A conversation. An adventure. Anything that wasn't arbitrary.

He didn't have any of those things at his disposal though. All he had left was a solitary door he hadn't knocked on. That or hurl himself in to the sea, which was appealing but not the mindset he was in right now.

He went with the door.

“Oh my god, I'm so sorry, but don't have any candy lef- Oh! Hey Noah! Aren't you a little old to be trick or treating?”

Noah glowered. No candy and a scathing remark? He really did hate this guy.

“Don't be a dick, exercise-guy,” Noah scowled, being a dick. “Give me food.”

There hadn't been a defining moment in which Noah decided he hated his neighbour, but Aidan has asked him once who lived next door and he had just replied, “I don't know. I hate him.” and from that a personal and one-sided vendetta had arose. Noah liked darkness, stillness, silence. This man liked vibrant colours, explosive movement, and booming music while he used his exercise yard. They were natural enemies.

Only for some reason he never seemed to have a bad word to say about Noah.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude. But I don't have any Halloween candy left. Or any candy at all, actually.” He ducked back in to his tiny trailer and turned his head a few times, as if a bag of candy would magically materialise. “Nope, sorry. And it's Morgan just, just by the way. I thought I'd told you before, maybe not, sorry.”

Morgan had told Noah his name several times before, but he wasn't good with names. He could remember every intricate detail of a person’s face, down to the number of freckles on their cheeks or the colour of the flecks in their eyes, but names escaped him. Also, he didn't care.

“I'm hungry.” I'm lonely. I'm afraid. I feel abandoned. I feel unwanted. I want to die. There were so many truer statements for Noah to choose from, but Morgan was the last person who would understand.

“Alright then.” Morgan pulled on a tracksuit top that matched his running shorts. “I'll buy you some food.”

“Ew.” Noah scrunched his face up in disgust. “I don't want any of your fucking health food.” In reality Morgan’s food always smelled wonderful, and looked incredibly well presented, but Noah felt the need to stand his ground as an overweight, unfit depressive in front of this perfect specimen.

Morgan locked the door behind him. “Ha ha, no. Don't worry, I won't make you eat that. I'll buy you pizza or something.” He started to walk towards the trailer park exit and Noah found himself following. “Unless you eat kosher food, then… I guess something else?”

“Do I look like a fucking Jew to you?” Noah snapped. Religion had always been a sore spot, something that made him feel isolated from the rest of his family. He had enjoyed the tradition and the community at synagogue, but sometimes the Torah was just wrong and he didn't understand how people couldn't see that. Shouldn't they, couldn't they, fix that? It could only be beneficial to the religion.

“Sorry, please don't take offence at this, but I thought you were Jewish,” Morgan said.

“I am,” Noah huffed.

The trailer park was surrounded by a hundred-odd meters of grassy headland before it slowly began to build up in to a city. It started small, water tanks, electricity boards, a millionaire’s bungalow isolated from the rest of the structures. The scenery rapidly became diners, flat shares, small businesses. Half the suburbs were sleeping now, but the diners still shone luminous in the darkness.

Morgan entered the first diner they came to, Noah trailing behind him. It was cosy, seeming like it was trying to be a cafe, but the cheap plastic seats and the glowing signs gave it away. Same.

“What d’you want?” Morgan asked.

“I dunno. I've only got five dollars,” Noah said. He couldn't remember if he'd eaten properly that day. Or yesterday. He'd probably eaten the day before that or he would've noticed by now, but he couldn't recall clearly. His whole life was one long day, tragic and indistinguishable.

“Don't be silly, I said I'd buy you something,” Morgan smiled. His niceness made Noah feel uncomfortable. He felt like he owed him some kindness in return, but couldn't muster the energy. Plus, he was suppose to hate the guy, why should that change just because he bought him some food?

“I want fries,” he said. “Please.”

“Ok.”

Noah decided to push it. “And pizza?”

“Sure.”

“And nachos, and chocolate milkshake, and brownies.”

“Of course.” Morgan pulled out his wallet and started to talk to the cashier.

“What, are you rich or something?” Noah demanded.

“Not really. I do alright. But we're in a diner outside a trailer park that's missing several ceiling panels, I feel as though I've got this.”

They sat down in a booth and Noah stared at his hands. This was his cue to start asking questions, make conversation, but every time he thought he had something to say he second guessed himself. Nothing he'd say would ever be interesting. Nothing he could ask would ever be well received. It was better for everyone if he just said nothing.

“I love your costume,” Morgan said, reaching out to touch Noah's suit. He snatched his arm away. Unperturbed, Morgan continued, “I've never seen anything like it before, it's beautiful. Where did you get it?”

“I made it,” Noah told the table.

“You made the mask? It's really cool!”

“No. Well, yeah, I did make the mask, but I did the embroidery too. And the seams on the shirt.”

Morgan was in awe. “You did that all by hand? That's amazing, you're so talented, Noah! Wow! It looks just like a machine did it, it’s absolutely perfect!”

“Eh,” Noah shrugged, secretly revelling in the praise.

“So, what do you do, Noah? We've never really spoken properly, I feel bad. I should've made more of an effort.” Noah could practically see the halo glowing around Morgan’s head as he spoke. It was sickening.

“Please don't,” he scowled. “I don't do anything. Ever.” That wasn't strictly true. Noah did a lot of things, things he'd used to love, but recently couldn't seem to eject any sort of emotion from him. Watching Star Wars made him feel just as hollow as doing the washing. He could remember emotions, warmth and pain and bittersweet nostalgia, but was powerless to recapture them.

“Don't be silly.” Morgan’s smile was silly. “I'm sure you do loads of great things! You go swimming every morning, don't you?”

“Do I look like I fucking swim?” He was being unnecessarily harsh now. It had been years since he'd had a conversation with anyone but Aidan and having someone's undivided attention was overwhelming. He was ready to be alone again.

“Oh.” Morgan looked blank. “I don't, I don't really know how to answer that. What does a swimmer look like?”

“You.”

“Oh, alright, then no. I guess you don't look like me. But I'm not a great swimmer, I don't really like the water. You look strong. I think you're a good swimmer, anyway.” He gave Noah a sunny smile.

“I don't swim. I get away from the beach. As far as I can go, every day, until my limbs ache and I feel suffocated and I couldn't possibly move another stroke. Then I stop. I stop and wait to drown because I'd so much rather drown out there than ever have to come back to the beach again. But then I panic. I get too scared of what'll happen if I let myself die out there, what my brother would do, who would find me, what happens when we die. So I come back like the fucking coward that I am. I don't swim, Morgan, I try to commit suicide.”

Noah couldn't even cry. His emotionless, incapable body couldn't even shed a tear at the prospect of his own demise. Couldn't even react to Morgan’s shattered face, filled with more pain than Noah had experienced in a lifetime. He didn't feel shame at oversharing. He felt nothing.

“Noah.” Morgan’s voice wavered. He reached tentatively across the table and pushed Noah's mask off his face, resting it in his hair. “Noah, I think you're really fucking brave.”

“Huh?” That wasn't what he'd been expecting. Simpering, begging, worrying; that's what he'd expected. But that he was brave? Impossible.

“I know how you feel Noah-“

“No you don't,” Noah sighed. As if. No one did. Especially not Morgan, who was perfect and happy and fulfilled.

“I do,” Morgan said in a firmer tone than Noah had ever heard him use. “I know exactly how you feel. I just deal with it differently. And you're probably thinking right now that I deal with it better, but I'll tell you, I certainly don't. Thinking of your family? So fucking selfless. I never do that. You and your brother seem really close.”

“Aidan?” Noah scoffed. “Yeah, sure, he loves me. Loves to tell me how shitty my life is and how it's all my fault. I'm lucky if he visits once a month.”

“Oh, I'm sorry. I thought that was your brother who visited every week. Y’know, tall guy with curly hair, always brings you food. Sometimes he has a lady with him, or two young kids.”

“Yeah, yeah, that's my brother,” Noah confirmed. “That's every week? Fuck, my meds make me spacey as hell.” That and seconds felt like mini eternities if dwelled on for too long.

“I know what you mean. This sounds super lame, but I keep a journal so that I can look back on it and remember what happened when.” He squinted at Noah. “But you don't strike me as a journal kind of guy. Maybe you could keep a blog or something?”

A blog. A multimedia, interactive, practically anonymous, potentially insane, creative site where he could rant, voice his opinions, and shoot down bigots? Eh. He'd consider it.

The waitress came and Noah disgusted Morgan by dipping his fries in his milkshake. Morgan proved surprisingly normal, abandoning his usual salad for a burger and fries. Or maybe that wasn't his usual. Maybe Noah only saw what he wanted to see.

“I feel sick,” Noah said after he finished his fries. “I’m sorry.”

“Well you did just eat fries and chocolate milkshake,” Morgan smirked. “But it's ok. Eat it tomorrow. You don't seem to buy much food, aside from what your brother brings you.”

“I don't think I do.” He paused. “You should come round. Tomorrow. For dinner. And eat pizza and stuff.”

“Yeah? Of course! I'd really like that,” Morgan beamed.

Noah hugged the warm food boxes to his chest on the way home. He felt something, he didn't know what, about that evening. He wasn't happy, it wasn't that strong an emotion, but something set that evening apart from everything else in his blurry memory, making it sharp.

“Can I ask you something kinda weird?” Morgan said suddenly.

“Sure,” Noah shrugged. As if he knew what was socially acceptable to ask.

“Do you have a girlfriend or anything? I'm not trying to ask you out, I promise, you wouldn't want to go out with someone like me anyway.”

“What? You think I'm a fucking racist or something?” Noah bristled.

“No. I just think you like fucking, and I don't,” Morgan clarified.

“Oh, well yeah, that makes sense.” Noah's cheeks tingled and felt something all too similar to dreadful shame. “I don't have… anyone, though. I mean, I like sex, with guys or with girls, but I have… I don't know when… I have trouble figuring out whether I really like them. Like in a relationship way, or not. I don't know how to do that yet.” He looked Morgan up and down, with his muscles visible through his track top and his soft, flowing curls and his large, brown eyes. “You're insanely attractive though.”

“Thanks Noah, that's sweet,” Morgan blushed. “I totally know how it is, romantic feelings are weird. But you'll figure it out some day, with someone. Or not. That's ok too.” He glanced over at Noah. “Plus, you're stunning as hell, so that should help.”

“Dude!” Noah’s cheeks burned.

Morgan walked Noah all the way up to his door, where they paused and looked out at the sea. It was an obscure, writhing mass in the twilight. The kraken itself could have been concealed below the surface and they wouldn't have known. It was mysterious and beautiful, but Noah realised he didn't want to spend the last moments of his life out there. If anything, he wanted to spend them in a moment like this; soft buds of emotion, warm company, familiar surroundings.

“I've been a massive dick to you,” Noah whispered softly. “And everyone else. I want to be better, but I think I'm just a bad person. I'm sorry.”

“No one who's conscious of their faults and wants to change them is a bad person. Your effort already makes you better than so many others. Don't give up. One day something's going to be worthwhile.” Morgan patted him reassuringly on the shoulder. “I'll see you later.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Morgan. For the pizza and, y'know, for always being so nice to me.”

“Of course!” Morgan grinned. The lights from his caravan glowed behind him, silhouetting him in the doorway. “And I might come swimming with you tomorrow, if that's ok. Just in case.”

Noah knew for certain there wouldn't be a ‘just in case’ incident. “Yeah, that would be really cool.”


	2. Marathon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Half marathon. Same thing.
> 
> Warnings for:  
> -depression  
> -insecurity
> 
> This one's generally quite fluffy, but I have no idea what happens when you run a marathon in California so just go with that bit, sorry!

Noah cocooned himself tighter in the duvet, ignoring the surprisingly tuneful banging on his door. He hadn't got out of bed for two days straight, so in all honesty he should've been desperate for the toilet, or something to eat, or even to move his limbs, but everything felt numb. His mind begged him to get up and open the door, but his body was unwilling. The duvet wrapped tighter around him.

"Noah?" Morgan's voice, equal parts cheery and worried, could barely be heard in the depths of Noah's crystallise. "I kind of think you might be dead. Do you mind if I come in?" This sentiment, your best friend fearing your demise, would've tugged at most people's heart strings and jolted them out of bed. Not Noah. He liked to wallow in his depression for long periods of time, which often caused people to assume him dead. He supposed he was just that kind of person.

The door to Noah's caravan opened, allowing blistering sunlight to flood the place, even managing to reach Noah within his duvet-fortress. Finally engaging his body with his brain, he groaned and pulled the covers a little further over his head.

"Thank goodness you're alive!" Morgan sat down, sending a ripple through the bed. "You have a lot of meds to catch up on. No wait! That's a terrible idea! Please don't take three days of meds at once! I suggest you just take your daily dosage of medication this morning. Sorry. How are you?"

Morgan sounded even more excitable than usual. His voice was bubbly and soft, but today he was the AK47 of bubble guns.

"I feel like shit." Noah surfaced, blinking blearily at Morgan through the blinding light. "Why are you so chipper?"

Morgan beamed at Noah's interest. "Because I've been training for a half marathon all year, and today we're going to run it!"

"Wait, we-"

"Don't worry, I know you tend to forget dates so I brought you some running shorts. And a headband because you have quite a lot of hair." Morgan's own hair was fastened in a neat ponytail and secured with a headband of his own. "And I've got your papers. And! I made you gluten free musli with Greek yogurt and blueberries-" Noah pulled a disgusted face, "but then I thought you wouldn't want it so I made you strawberry pancakes. Oh, and I fed your dog, just in case you had died."

"He's not my dog," Noah glowered, hoping that ignoring his actual concern would make it go away.

"Alright, but you have built a wonderful kennel for him beside your trailer. I'm sure he loves staying with you!" Noah wasn't cruel. Just because he hadn't been on the best terms with his dad didn't mean his dog had to suffer. So maybe he had a state of the art kennel with a heated floor, elevated bed, water bottle, and yard but that didn't mean Noah liked him.

"So, about this half marathon," Morgan continued.

"I need to take a piss." Noah's legs almost gave way as he stood, but his desperation to get to the bathroom preceded. Thought he was still bursting with ecstasy, Morgan waited until Noah was finished before launching back in to his sentence.

"You look quite sick, sorry, no offence, so you don't have to come if you don't want to. But I really think you should get out for a bit, maybe take not-your-dog for a walk? And I still wanted to give you pancakes, you've only eaten ramen and orange juice all week."

Noah took the box of pancakes and started to eat them with his hands. "How do you know that? These are great by the way, thanks."

"You told me. Then you threw up immediately afterwards, slept for two days, and now we're here. And you're welcome!" Morgan gave him an over the top grin.

"You don't feel so good, do you?" Noah asked. He knew what fake happiness looked like; it was the only kind of happiness he could experience now. Morgan was often lavish with his praise for what was really a shitty life, but today Noah could see that his eyes were dull and soul wasn't really in it.

"No," Morgan sighed, leaning against Noah's shoulder. "I feel like crap too. But I've been looking forward to this run for weeks and I kind of owe it to happy-me, y'know?" Noah didn't know. He owed himself nothing but misery and disappointment. Still, he nodded for Morgan's sake.

"I'll go shower. Then you can dress me in your skimpy shorts and paper number," he said.

Morgan smiled. It was barely a twitch of the lips, but it was a real smile. "Thanks for coming, Noah."

In the shower Noah tugged at his hair with a comb, trying to get it to soak up some water. It was resistant, greasy and matted like it could've done with being washed a good few days ago. It could've.

Noah figured that as long as he started the marathon with Morgan he could gradually hang back and eventually slip away, get a coffee or some juice or even head home. Ever since he'd agree to attend (a defenceless, vulnerable moment during which he was half asleep and Morgan ambushed him) Morgan had been begging him to come jogging or circuit training with him. To begin with Noah had fully intended to, he hadn't begun planning to let Morgan down. But having a job, even a part time one (they called him in only when they needed him) was exhausting. He couldn't deal with depression and work. It had got to a point where he'd even backed out of their morning swimming session, which he usually enjoyed in summer. Noah considered his cardio to be at an all time low, not that it had fallen far, so now was the worst time possible for him to participate in a marathon. Half marathon. It all felt the same to him.

Wrapping a towel under his arms, Noah stepped back in to the caravan where Morgan was waiting dutifully. "Your hair looks so cute," he said happily.

"Thanks." Noah stared at him. "Could you just..." He gave a low whistle and spun his finger in a circular motion. "Cause, y'know, I'm getting dressed."

"Oh!" Morgan blushed and spun round immediately. "Of course, yeah, sorry, umm..."

Noah wrapped the towel around his head then started to dress. "Have you ever seen a girl naked?" He asked Morgan.

"Well, I wouldn't want to-"

"Right, course, sorry. A guy then?"

"I wouldn't really want to see a guy naked either but... Yeah. Not in a sexual way or anything, but yeah."

For some reason Noah felt more embarrassed than Morgan. He pulled on an old T-shirt then started to struggle with Morgan's shorts. They were tight fitting lycra made to stream line the body, which looked great on Morgan but were clinging to things Noah didn't really want clung to.

"I guess you can turn around now," he said begrudgingly.

"You look wonderful," Morgan smiled, pulling Noah towards him and starting to pin a paper number to his back. Noah knew that if he twisted just right he could get the safety pin impaled in his spine in a way that would kill him instantly. The thought was appealing. He wouldn't want his death blamed on Morgan though. Morgan, who was currently nuzzling his damp hair and whispering that he was going to do amazingly today in a soft voice that made Noah feel funny. He could never wish Morgan badly.

After Morgan had made them both orange cordial they set off for the start line, which Noah thought was far enough away to warrant a bus journey. Morgan thought walking there would be a good warm up. He talked about Egypt and how pretty Noah's hair was, two of his favourite topics, and Noah was happy to listen. Then he asked, "How's your relationship, Noah?"

"Eh." Noah shrugged. "I think it's good."

"You don't sound very enthusiastic. What's wrong?"

"I have depression," he dead panned. Morgan raised his eyebrows in disappointment. Noah didn't think he was capable of scowling. "I don't know. I like her a lot, she's very... Nice. Sex is good. Conversation is good enough, but I don't talk much anyway. But sometimes she wants to hold my hand or 'cuddle' or some shit. And I don't mind but, like, get the fuck off me. I don't wanna do that, y'know? I don't think I like her romantically and I think I can like people romantically and that's an issue."

He waited for Morgan to solve his problem for him, as he often did, but Morgan remained silent. "Should I break up with her? Or am I, I don't know, not trying hard enough? Should I just let her do all that bullshit and go along with it?"

"Do you, umm, do you have a crush on someone or, or something?" Morgan asked softly.

"What?"

"Like, a romantic crush. How do you know you have those feelings? Is that ok? Can I ask that?" He watched his sneakers pounding the pavement and blushed.

"I'm not sure," Noah said. "I'm really confused. I don't know what romantic feelings are. I might have them but... It could be something else. I've not felt a lot of feelings for a while, I could be getting them mixed up."

"Well, if you want some help-" Morgan looked up at Noah, "For me romance feels like a whirlwind in my stomach and a fog in my head and a filter in my throat that makes all my sentences come out as a dumb stutter. It kinda hurts, but it's a good hurt." He shook his head and turned his attention back to the floor. "But I only have romantic feelings, I have nothing to compare them to. Don't listen to me."

Noah brooded as he thought this over, making Morgan's idle chatter background noise. Morgan didn't pause or ask him any questions, he knew he wasn't listening, but he kept talking anyway to prevent Noah feeling awkward. He came to no conclusions.

They turned on to the main street, which buzzed with the energised conversations of hundreds of runners. Noah glowered at them as Morgan pulled him towards the sign-in sheet, earning them both perplexed looks.

A part of Noah, the part that slept for days and blogged in the dark and ate chocolate for breakfast, wanted to lie down on the floor and cry. However another part of him, a childish, competitive part of him long buried, wanted to prove all these Adonises wrong. He couldn't come first, he knew that was ludicrous, but if he could beat even a handful of these snobs across the finish line he'd find satisfaction in their horrified faces.

"Noah, I signed you in, we can go soon!" Morgan bounced back over to him. "Are you excited?" Noah envied Morgan's ability to still feel genuine happiness. He'd been faking it for almost twenty years.

"No." He was starting to seriously regret the lack of training he'd done. Since being informed of his participation he'd gained weight and become less fit. He couldn't possibly have been less prepared if he'd tried.

"Of course you are, silly, come on!"

They joined the masses around the start line. Noah worried about what would happen when Morgan left him and he was surrounded by strangers. He hated strangers; they made him anxious.

"Morgan-"

A gunshot sounded and both men instinctively stepped towards each other. Runners were starting to disperse, spreading across the start line, so Morgan followed them at a gentle jog. Noah groaned and matched his pace.

At first the race was a crush of bodies, making Noah feel shut in and claustrophobic, but as Morgan began to pick up the pace (with Noah following close behind) they gradually drew away from the larger clusters of people. They'd left the rabble behind; now they were running with the pros.

Noah had no problems keeping up with Morgan. He was nothing if not enduring, and a few months of a poor diet and lapse exercise routine couldn't cancel out a lifetime of dedicated swimming. In fact, he probably could've kept up a gentle jog all day. No, his problems came when Morgan started to speed up, a determined look in his eyes as he overtook other competitors. Morgan didn't compete with other people, he competed with himself, and he was tough competition.

Morgan sped past another runner and Noah felt his lungs tighten; he wouldn't be able to catch his breath from now on. His legs were numb after days of disuse, and although they'd flourished with the light exercise on the walk over they were quickly tiring. Plus, the feelings of inferiority did nothing for his constantly deteriorating mental state.

A gentle breeze blew and Noah paused for a moment, gulping in breaths of air and stretching his arms behind his head. In just half a second he'd lost Morgan around the bend, so, pushing away the burn in his throat, he sprinted around the corner. Good. He could see Morgan again. Time to stop for another breath. Was he having a heart attack? He felt like he was having a heart attack. Shit. He'd lost Morgan again. More running. He couldn't breath. Stop. Why couldn't he remember the symptoms of a heart attack?

"Noah!" Morgan was grabbing his shoulders, standing him upright. "I'm so, so sorry! I thought you were behind me! Are you ok?" Noah hadn't noticed before, but Morgan was breathing heavily too.

"Am I having a heart attack?" Was all he could ask.

"No. Well..." Morgan poked at his left arm and felt his chest. "I don't think so. You just have a stitch. Do this." He stretched his arms above his head and locked his fingers together. Noah copied clumsily. Everyone they'd overtaken was thundering past them.

"You-you should g-go," Noah panted, gesturing vaguely to the course ahead. "You'll, I'll, I'll make you lose."

"Don't be silly, it's a marathon, there are no losers!" Morgan had his breath back already. He even looked calm. "Everyone who finishes has achieved something great!"

"That's... That's utter bullshit! You've been training all, all year. You don't train just to be content with losing." He dropped his arms down and clasped his side. The shorts weren't helping, they felt like a medieval torture device.

"Stopping to help my friend isn't losing, Noah." Morgan looked like he wanted to touch his face. He had the same loving expression Aidan always wore when he used to tuck him in at night, and he'd always used to gently stroke his cheek. Morgan looked like he wanted to do that to Noah now. "I think that's a major win. So why don't you tell me what's wrong, and then we'll fix it at your own pace, and then, if you want to, well carry on."

"You'd seriously sacrifice this for me?" Noah shivered. Standing still was making him cold.

"Well, I certainly wouldn't sacrifice you for this." He shrugged like giving up a year of work for a friend was nothing. Morgan thought himself selfish, but Noah hadn't seen him do a single selfish thing since they'd met. "What's wrong? Aside from the fact that I'm going too fast, that was selfish of me."

"I can't breath." Noah dropped in to a crouching position. His legs couldn't take much more. "And my legs are tired. And now I'm cold. And my stomach is eating your exercise pants and I'm fat." He lay down face first on the floor. He couldn't sink any lower.

"Umm... Umm..." Morgan dithered, then crouched down beside him. "Well, your breathing seems normal to me. And I think, I hope, your legs'll be fine after a short break. And you can have my track top to keep you warm. And I'm sorry that my shorts don't fit you, I should have taken in to account that I might have to lend them to someone when I bought them, but I guess I didn't. I'm sorry. And, umm, I wouldn't say you're fat exactly, it's more like... More like..." He quickly became flustered, looking around him rather than at Noah. "It's not bad to be fat, you're just... Umm..."

"Dude," Noah mumbled in to the gravel, "My diet's like ninety five percent pasta right now. I've put so much weight on, it's awful." Noah knew he was attractive, in that asshole-ish kind of way that most attractive people did. He knew that if he lost weight he'd be considered incredibly conventionally attractive, and that even if he didn't he could still put half of California's skimpy models to shame. What he hated was the fluctuations in weight caused by depression and a cocktail of medication.

"I wouldn't say it's awful. I think you look really nice. And you just ran part of a marathon, you can't be in bad shape." He tousled Noah's hair, and for once he didn't shove him off. "Come on Noah," Morgan was offering him a hand up now, "I think you need to prove yourself wrong."

Forcing all doubt from his mind, Noah stood on tired but sturdy legs, then wiped his face with the bottom of his T-shirt. Morgan stared rather obviously. "What?"

"Nothing! Nothing." He whipped his head to the side, becoming overly interested in a tree. "It's just. Cute. You're cute. You look good."

While Morgan was pretending to be distracted Noah rolled his shirt back up to try and figure out what exactly about his scars and stretch marks was cute, but he didn't see it. He could work with cute, though. He hadn't taken his shirt off in front of anyone since he was a very small child, and if someone like Morgan, who looked like a marble statue, thought he was cute then maybe he could reconsider that.

"Here." Morgan held his track top out to Noah. "Put it on."

"No, I-I shouldn't," Noah declined. He felt bad. Plus, it would've been embarrassing to put it on only to have to immediately remove it because it didn't fit.

"Please. I'm super hot and I want you to enjoy this, at least a bit."

The breeze was becoming sharp now that Noah had cooled down. He took the jacket. "Hey! This fits perfectly..." He narrowed his eyes at Morgan. "Did you buy a top that doesn't fit you on the off chance that you lent it to me?"

"Of course!" Morgan beamed. "I'd hate for you to feel awkward wearing my stuff." As Noah fished for a response Morgan set off again at a brisk walk. They were going to have to go much faster if they wanted to even get close to their previous position, but Morgan seemed content with walking so Noah held his tongue. This was for his sake, after all. No one but Aidan had done anything for him since his mum died.

Noah described the first Star Trek film for Morgan, scene by scene. He laughed profusely. Noah couldn't take his eyes off Morgan when he laughed, and decided that maybe making other people happy made him a little bit happy too. It was fleeting; the second Morgan stopped smiling the feeling was gone. But it was a feeling, and that was more than Noah could conjure up on his own.

"You can call me fat, y'know." They'd nearly finished the marathon now, according to Morgan, jogging steadily down the road. "I don't mind."

"I know," Morgan said. "I didn't mean to offend you, or, or to make you think I think there's something wrong with you. There's not; you're great. It's just... People never say fat in a nice way. In America you kind of use it to devalue people, like you can only be fat. But you're a lot of things, Noah. You're funny and sweet and intelligent and brave. It's perfectly... It's perfect that you're fat, but you're a lot of other things too."

"Oh." Noah knew he should be feeling some strong emotion, love or pride or acceptance, but instead all he could think was how empty he was. His best friend was amazing, yet he couldn't even bring himself to feel anything. He wondered if he was feeling appreciation, because that wasn't really a feeling but a thought, but then he began to wonder if maybe it was a feeling, he just couldn't experience it.

"Sorry, did I offend you?" Morgan asked worriedly.

Noah desperately tried to find a way to express his appreciation, but couldn't form any coherent sentences. He glanced longingly at Morgan, who looked terrified. He hugged him.

It was a quick, half-hearted, one-arm-around-the-shoulders kind of hug, but Morgan looked jubilant. Sometimes it didn't matter how you felt, it was about how you made others feel. Morgan smiled and Noah's stomach dropped. He felt ok.

Before Noah could even see the finish line Morgan was jumping and shouting excitedly. He grabbed Noah's hand, Noah let him, and weaved between the poor stragglers who'd already used up all their energy. The finish line was in sight now, bustling and, oh god, there was a water table! And fruit! Noah wouldn't have noticed they'd crossed the finish line if Morgan hadn't started yelling, "We finished! We finished! You did great!" He lifted Noah a few inches off the ground and squeezed him tightly. "Noah, you just ran a half marathon! You're so brilliant!"

Noah squirmed out of Morgan's grasp, flustered and a little embarrassed. "Yeah, uh, thanks. You too. At least we didn't come last." He gestured to the runners still crossing the finish line. "These poor saps came last." They all received Noah's smuggest expression.

"Noah! Don't say that!" Morgan scolded. "Everyone's trying their best, we're all winners!"

"Whatever. I'm gonna get some water." He wander to the table and Morgan followed him. "Can we go home now? Are we done? I feel kinda sick."

"Oh, of course." They grabbed water bottles then started to walk to the bus stop, Morgan's hand on Noah's back. It felt... Alright. He didn't want him to move it.

"Hey, uh." Noah looked down at his sneakers. He wore them nearly every day, but he thought today he'd used them more than ever before. "Thanks for being so nice to me today. I would've understood if you'd left me."

Morgan gasped. "I would never! I coerced you in to coming, it's only decent of me to keep you company. I love-" Noah's heart froze, "running. But you're more important than a hobby."

Being with Morgan made Noah feel like he was eating warm chocolate fudge cake while having an anxiety attack. He'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :)


	3. Overdose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please heed the trigger warnings:  
> -attempted suicide  
> -drug abuse and overdose  
> -severe depression  
> -apathy in the face of death  
> -hospitalisation  
> -excessive use of bad language
> 
> I know my work isn't popular, but just in case someone wants to get on me about this: no I don't think overdosing on drugs is ok, no I don't think attempted suicide is a nice thing, no I'm not trying to romanticise it, and although writing a fic about it does normalise it in a way, as long as I've done it with care, which I hope I have, it can be a reassurance to people who've experienced it rather than encouragement to do it. I cannot stress enough how much you should not commit suicide.

Every breath Morgan took could have been someone's last.

The air was thick and muggy, thought still somehow managed to send shivers down Morgan's spine in the way only hospital air could. There was an underlying stench of stew, the same no matter which hospital you attended, and what Morgan could only describe as stale bodies; not dead yet, just waiting to be.

Noah was dying.

That was stupid. They were all dying, slow and constant, that was nature's way. But now it seemed to Morgan that Noah was dying too quickly, and the thought terrified him.

The nurse had tried to comfort him as they pried him from the end of Noah's bed, leaving him in the dimly lit corridor as they tried to slow Noah's death process to a sustainable level. She said he'd done this a lot. That in high school Noah had overdosed every few weeks and, well, clearly he'd made a full recovery each time. There was no consolation there; just because he'd survived every other time didn't mean he'd survive this. And Morgan knew something the nurse didn't know: Noah wasn't a drug addict, he just wanted to die.

Morgan had called Aidan earlier, who had seemed far too panicky for the dulled atmosphere of the corridor. He had yelled and sworn and cursed Noah, then cried and admitted he loved his little brother more than he'd ever let on. "He's so stupid," Aidan had said, with a soft voice and a bitter tone. "They think he's a genius but he's not. He's human. He's so human, fuck-" Then he said he'd be there soon and hung up.

Somewhere an alarm went off. Someone had just died. Or was dying. Or had just given birth. Or maybe just wanted a glass of water. It was a liminal space, containing both unexpected miracles and certain death.

He could hear the squeak of Aidan's sneakers echoing through the corridors before he could see him. Everyone had a slightly ghostly quality in a hospital, as if their bodies knew they were close to death and reacted accordingly. Aidan didn't look like a ghost. He looked alert and afraid, red-eyed and pale-faced. He dropped down next to Morgan, who had decided to sit on the floor due to lack of a chair.

"What the fuck happened?" Aidan asked. It didn't sound as aggressive as Morgan was sure it was meant to.

"I don't know. I wasn't there," Morgan said softly. It felt wrong to speak above a whisper, like that would wake the dead. "I just went round to give him some nachos."

"Who the fuck even are you?" He was fond of that word. Then again, so was Noah.

"I'm Morgan." He tucked his hair behind his ear, as if that would help.

Aidan squinted, then pointed at Morgan with his hand held like a gun, the way Noah always did. "Guy with all the exercise equipment. Noah's talked about literally no one else for the past two years. I'm surprised we've never met." Aidan paused, weighing up whether he should speak his thoughts aloud. "Noah wanted you to come to the funeral. You weren't there."

"I was in Egypt having my own family crisis. Cousin got hit by a train." That hospital had been even hotter, the overbearing aroma of stew even stronger and spicier. The mangled stumps of his cousins legs as he bled out on to the bed and the flies buzzing around the broken air con unit and the sound of his aunt's wailing were enough to drive a man insane. Good job Morgan already was.

"Oh, sorry. Noah didn't tell me that." Aidan looked down at his sneakers.

"I didn't tell Noah that. I just said I was going to Egypt. I think... I think he needed someone to be mad at, besides himself." Noah had tried to act like his dad dying was no big deal, more a burden lifted from his shoulders than placed on them, but it was clear he was upset. He asked Morgan to come shopping and go for walks and have marathons of TV shows he'd illegally sourced from the internet, when usually all he wanted to do was sleep. He was trying to distract himself.

"Mm, thanks. You do a good job, looking after my crazy little brother. A better job than me." Aidan, from what Morgan had heard, was a great big brother. He had got Noah dressed for school and walked him there and kissed him goodbye on the cheek even though he didn't want him to. He had done Noah's homework, even when Noah could do it himself, and made him cheap, microwaveable food when their parents were out. And every night before Noah fell asleep he had perched on the edge of Noah's bed and gently stroked his hair and told him a story in which they were the heroes.

"I think you're doing a great job, Noah loves you a lot." When Aidan didn't reply he added, "And be careful who you call crazy, I'm just as crazy as Noah."

"Oh, umm, I'm sorry."

"I'm kidding, it's fine," Morgan smiled. Then neither of them wanted to say anything else.

A doctor left the room, then a nurse, then a second nurse who told them that they could go in, though Noah might be a bit spacey and nauseous. "He's always a bit spacey and nauseous," Morgan whispered to Aidan and he laughed a little.

Noah was sprawled on his back and staring at the ceiling, like he always did when he was having a severe depressive episode. He rolled his eyes towards Aidan and Morgan to acknowledge their entrance, but didn't say anything.

Aidan did. "You fucking bastard!" He yelled, keeping a safe distance from Noah's bed. "We just lost our fucking parents, you absolute shit, you inconsiderate piece of shit, did you even think about that? My kids have lost three grandparents and an aunt, Tucker's seven, that's fucking messed up Noah. Did you even think about anyone else? What about your girlfriend? What about..." He gestured to Morgan, "This dude? What-"

"Oh, fuck off!" Noah's voice was hoarse and strained but he did his best to scream back. "Who the fuck even invited you here? Fuck off! I can't deal with you right now, it's like rats are eating me from the inside out. Don't come at with all your 'I should be a better person' bullshit, ok-"

"Ah! Stop!" Morgan interjected as loudly as he dared. "Aidan, that's so mean, all Noah needs from you right now is to be supportive and loving. And Noah, he came all the way over here because he loves you. There are more polite ways to tell him why you're angry." Both brothers were glaring maliciously at him now. "So, umm, I suggest, Aidan, you go back in to the corridor for a bit and let Noah calm down, and Noah, you actually calm down."

"That's, urgh," Aidan clenched his first and scowled, "That's a sensible idea. I'm sorry." He headed for the door.

"I'm not sorry, you dick," Noah yelled after him. He turned to Morgan, "Can you believe that fucking dick?"

"Well, a little." Morgan sat down beside Noah's bed. His face was pale and his lips colourless. He looked sweaty and uncomfortable, like he was on the verge of fainting. "But I think he could've phrased it better."

"You phrase it better, then." Noah could only turn his head to look at Morgan. His whole body was tensed and his arms were clasped painfully tightly around his stomach. That may have been what caused his laboured breathing, or maybe he was just struggling to stay awake.

"I'm sorry you felt as though you had to do that, I've been a terrible friend. You should know that from now on if you ever feel that bad you should come and talk to me immediately-"

"Even if you're in Egypt?"

"Of course. I'll pay the phone bill. Or the flight ticket. I'll do anything to make you feel alright again."

"You missed one thing." Noah was smirking but his eyes were screwed shut in pain.

"What?"

"You'll bring me loads of nachos."

"No, you'll be sick," Morgan said firmly. It was all a game to Noah, life and death, because he won either way. If he died he could finally escape from the twisted thoughts tormenting his mind and if he lived, well, he got to carry on living. His nonchalance made Morgan weak with fear.

"Get on the bed," Noah said suddenly, his voice exhausted and strained.

"What?"

"On the bed. Beside me. Lie on the bed beside me." With enormous effort and a pained groan he moved over an inch to give Morgan space. Lowering the barrier, he climbed in to bed and lay on his side next to Noah.

"I, umm..." Noah tried to turn his head to look at Morgan but found it too much of a struggle. "I understand if you don't want to hang with me or anything anymore."

"Noah," Morgan shook his head in disbelief, "That's a ridiculous thought. I love you more than anything else in the world. The last thing you need right now is to be alone, I'm not going anywhere." He reach out to place his hand on top of Noah's, but Noah grabbed it and instead placed it on top of his stomach, which was barely moving a millimetre each time he took a breath. He was much colder than he looked.

"Y'know," Noah had dropped his voice to a whisper, "I was, like, really, really skinny in high school."

"Yeah?" Morgan absently kissed Noah on the cheek and he smiled.

"Yeah. I was on heroin."

"What the hell?" Morgan sat up so quickly he shook the flimsy mattress and Noah huffed in pain. "Sorry, sorry." He settled down again and Noah demanded he put his hand back in his stomach, saying that it was warm. "What the hell?" Morgan repeated.

"I was kidding," Noah chuckled, but laughing clearly hurt. Morgan fumed. "I was on the swim team."

"That wasn't funny, Noah!" He scolded.

"I think I'm hilarious. Anyway, you would've thought I was super hot in high school."

The only way Noah could've possibly been more attractive was if he was less abrasive, but he tried to be and that was enough for Morgan. "I think you're super hot right now. Well... Right now you look like you just overdosed on ecstasy and had your stomach pumped. It's not your best look. But the rest of the time you're very attractive."

"But I was skinny in high school," Noah emphasised.

Morgan didn't think Noah would suit being skinny. He had the sturdy build of a footballer or a heavyweight boxer or a chubby costume designer. He made a great chubby costume designer. But Morgan didn't tell him this, because Noah could do whatever he wanted as long as he was safe and happy. "You just want me to tell you you're cute, don't you?" He asked, nuzzling Noah's curls.

"Yes please," Noah said in exasperation, like this was what he'd been waiting for all along. "My girlfriend never does that, it's like sex and then we eat salad and there has to be candles lit and we have to go on dates and she wants to hold my hand and then we should shower together but her shower is clearly made for fucking chihuahuas and it comes out in a little dribble and it's awkward and then we're just stood there in the fucking dribble with no clothes on and it's horrible and I want go to sleep because I'm depressed and that's what I do but she doesn't even get it like what does she think I take five hundred pills for each morning, God!"

"You're very cute, Noah," Morgan reassured him calmly. Noah's little speech had left him dizzy and out of breath.

"She's, she's gonna break up with me," he panted.

"Why?"

"I just overdosed on ecstasy, you'd break up with me."

"Of course I wouldn't. Now it's more important than ever that you're surrounded by people who love you. Like Aidan. Who loves you a lot, and is still in the corridor." He raised an eyebrow at Noah, who was pretending he couldn't tear his eyes off the ceiling.

"Eh, let her do it." He started to giggle then, hands grasping his sides.

"What now?" Morgan couldn't help but smile a little. It was so rare to see Noah happy, especially when he'd been at rock bottom just a few hours ago.

"She, she was a fucking furry," Noah laughed. Morgan couldn't tell if he was crying with laughter or pain. "I dated a fucking furry!"

The door opened and a less than impressed Aidan entered. "What the hell are you doing?" He demanded.

"I, I, I fucked a fucking furry," Noah exploded, laughing so hard he could barely breath.

"Alright then." Aidan pulled up a chair, kissed a delirious Noah on the forehead, and sat down. "How is he? Aside from obvious insanity."

Noah took as deep breaths as he could manage. "Don't mock me, motherfucker."

"Not bad, all things considered." Morgan didn't know what to say. "His stomach hurts and his throat's raspy, but that's so be expected. I assume the pain medication is just kicking in."

Noah finally relaxed, taking slow, steady breaths like he did when he was swimming, and closed his eyes. "These pain meds are good," he hummed. "I know what I'm using for my next overdose."

Aidan bristled, preparing to yell, but Morgan shook his head. It wasn't worth it. Noah was the most intelligent person Morgan had ever met, but he was also the stupidest. He understood to the nth degree his own insignificance and morality, but instead of using that knowledge to do something great with what little time he had he used it to be wasteful and afraid. It wasn't his fault, he'd been raised on fear and pressure with the expectation of perfection, but he was old enough now to understand his own condition. He felt imprisoned by his own brilliant mind, but was blind to the fact that time would one day imprison his body.

"Morgan?" He looked across at Aidan. "Have you ever tried to, umm..." Aidan tilted his head towards Noah.

"Which? Overdosed or..." For some reason neither of them could say it.

"For fuck's sake," Noah mumbled. "Suicide, have you ever attempted suicide."

"No," Morgan said. "I'm not actively afraid of death, but when it's staring you in the face it's a very different matter." Aidan seemed perplexed. "It's like, I'm not afraid of heights, but when I'm stood on a rocky outcrop hundreds of miles up a mountain and the wind's roaring and the rain's battering and my backpack's caught in a bush I suddenly wish the whole thing was happening on the ground."

"I think I get that," Aidan nodded.

No one wanted to say anything. Morgan played with Noah's hair. Aidan looked shamefully down at his hands. Noah tried to fall asleep. Somewhere an alarm went off.

"Tell me a story." Noah allowed his head to loll to one side and stared at Aidan. "Tell me a story about a fucking ordinary person."

"O-ok," Aidan said. And he did.

He told a story of the angriest, most sarcastic, isolated man who was adored by his family and fell in love with a superhero and deserved to be saved. He was complex and afraid but extraordinary and creative. He was everything Noah aspired to be, everything he wasn't, and everything he was. Aidan was a beautiful story teller.

When he was finished he stood up, softly stroked Noah's cheek, and said, "Look, I've got an incredibly nervous twelve year old babysitting a hyper seven year old. I really have to go. But I'll be back first thing tomorrow, promise."

"I'll walk you out," Morgan said, rolling off the bed and accompanying Aidan in to the corridor.

Aidan turned and smiled at Morgan. "So? What did you want to tell me?"

"I'm sorry," Morgan frowned. "I didn't want to tell you anything."

"Then why did you walk me out?"

"To be polite."

"You're strange," Aidan chuckled. "Can I tell you something then?"

The question made Morgan's insides squirm, but he nodded. No one ever had anything good to tell him.

"You're in love with my brother."

Morgan's heart hammered. Of course he was in love with Noah. Noah was beautiful and witty and entertaining. He made Morgan's stomach twist and his head feel foggy. They understood and helped each other. They couldn't possibly have been more different but Morgan had never met anyone else he got along with with more ease. At least it hadn't been bad news.

"Don't tell him," Morgan begged. "Please. I promise I won't try to ask him out, I'm really happy just being friends. Please don't tell him I like him, he's the best friend I've ever had, I don't want to lose him."

"It's ok." Aidan patted him comfortingly on the back. "I won't tell Noah anything. But you're stupid if you think he doesn't like you too."

He started to walk down the corridor and Morgan couldn't help but watch him go. "Hey." Aidan stopped suddenly. Turned back. "When I look up at the sky and I realise how small and worthless I really am, that's what Noah's whole life is like, isn't it? One epiphany after the other and it wears him down."

"Yeah. Yeah, I think it is," Morgan said softly.

"I'll try harder." Then he turned the corner and disappeared.

Noah was lying still with his eyes closed when Morgan came in, so he crept around the bed and sat down silently.

"I'm not asleep," Noah murmured. "Get back on the bed and cuddle me."

Morgan obliged, pulling Noah snugly against his chest. He was usually averse to any human contact, but for a while now he'd seemed very eager to get close to Morgan. Morgan wondered about what Aidan had said, wondered if that meant Noah liked him, but brushed it off. He loved Noah anyway, being a best friend was equally as important as being a boyfriend, especially since Noah only had one friend.

"I've had an epiphany," Noah whispered, picking up Morgan's hand and intertwining their fingers. Noah's fingers were stubby and plump, appearing almost feeble in the grasp of Morgan's spidery hand. He pulled Noah's hand down and kissed his knuckles.

"What's your epiphany?"

"That you're a superhero." Noah pressed his forehead against Morgan's. He smelled of cigarettes and beer and stale caravan air. It was awful and sickening and Morgan loved it. "And that I'm a sappy git. Night, Morgan." He kissed Morgan on the forehead then quickly rolled over, but still allowed Morgan to tuck him in to his chest and bury his face in his hair.

"Noah, you have everything to live for and I'm going to make sure you have a long and happy life. Goodnight," Morgan said. It didn't matter if that happy life wasn't with him, Noah deserved it anyway.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if I can off as a horrible person at the beginning of the fic, but I'm writing an angsty story because I personally feel like shit, and I know other people feel like shit too, and sometimes reading about fictional character who feel like shit and overcome that can be helpful. If I've done anything wrong just tell me, I promise I'm a friendly person really and I won't mind at all!
> 
> Anyway, these are awful and I should stop.
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


	4. Beach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally some fluff! Just, so much fluff, all the fluff, the fluffiest. No one asked for this but I NEED it. Really fluffy.

It had been a while since Noah had looked in the mirror. This was mostly because of the constant darkness that shrouded his caravan, causing his reflection to become a permanent shadow. What use was there in inspecting a shadow?

What use was there in inspecting his reflection? His hair was curly, his face unshaven, eyes brown. He had a gap between his front teeth which he could feel with his tongue. He had the shoulders of a weightlifter and the body of a teddy bear. He knew all this without having to look in the mirror.

Now, however, Morgan had persuaded him to open just one curtain during the day, so the sun’s beams could creep into his murky abode and make his reflection almost visible. It was dark, fuzzy, his features only just recognisable as human, but it was there.

He'd never realised he had so many freckles. Or such soft cheeks. Or so much hair. He hadn't shaved his face in a long time, and suddenly he looked like a child. He felt like one too, but that wasn't so sudden.

Softly, breath clouding the mirror, he ran his fingers down his smooth cheek and wondered how he'd missed so much. He'd blinked and become an adult, someone who should have a secure career and responsibilities and a family. How old was he now? Thirty three? More or less. By thirty three his brother had had two children, a loving wife, a house of his own, and the aspiration to one day have a fulfilling career. Noah had a half eaten box of ritz crackers and a pile of fabric he had to fashion in to a lobster costume.

It wasn't that he didn't want to have goals, he'd just never expected to need them. As a small child he'd expected to grow up to be rich and famous, as he was infinitely more intelligent than any of his classmates. As a teenager he'd expected to die before he had to make any future plans. Well, now it was the future and he was neither rich nor dead.

His warm breath dusted the mirror. Definitely not dead.

An impatient hammering at the door interrupted Noah's moment of self discovery, so he slowly wiped his face and made his way across the caravan. The hammering persisted. “Piss off, I'm coming,” he shouted.

“Noah, I'm not leaving my kids here alone,” Aidan yelled in reply.

Noah dragged his feet. “Leave them with Morgan-“

“They're not Morgan’s responsibility. Noah, open the door!”

He did, just as Aidan swung his fist to knock again, causing him to stumble into the caravan. Noah looked vaguely pleased with himself.

“You dick,” Aidan spat. He glanced up at Noah, then burst out laughing.

“What?” Noah scowled. He knew what.

“You, you look twelve!” Aidan choked, grasping Noah's shoulder for support.

Noah grumbled to himself, folding his arms, waiting patiently for Aidan to control himself.

“Ok, ok.” Aidan took deep breaths. “You look good, man, you look good.” He pinched Noah's cheeks, like he used to do when they were little. “You've put some weight on-“

“Shut up-“

“It suits you-“

“Shut up-“

“Having a boyfriend is good for you-“

“Shut! Up!” Roughly shoving Aidan to the side, Noah peered out the door, across to Morgan's caravan. He was perched on an exercise bike, talking to Grace and Tucker and a little girl who resembled him so strongly she had to be the niece he'd been talking about. He was paying no mind to Noah and Aidan.

“He's not my boyfriend, shut up,” Noah huffed, slamming the door closed as a precautionary measure. “He’s just my really hot friend.”

“You wanna fuck him.” Aidan looked round for a place to sit, wrinkling his nose at the crumpled bed covers. He pulled out Noah's computer chair, then quickly shoved it back under the desk when he saw it was infested with cheeto dust. “Your home is disgusting.”

“No it's not, shut up.” He was getting sick of saying that. Why hadn't Aidan left already? “And no, I don't. That's disrespectful, he doesn't like sex.”

“Well, he’s not for you then, I guess.” Aidan leaned against the door, seemingly the only clean surface in the caravan. He smirked at Noah.

“That's rude, I don't just care about sex, y’know.” Historically, Noah cared solely about sex. “I like doing other things with Morgan, like watching TV and getting dinner and going swimming. That stuff’s more important than sex. It's intimate and all that shit.”

“So you do like him?” Suddenly they were back in high school, teasing each other relentlessly about crushes and, unbeknownst to the other, trying to set each other up. As far as Noah recalled Aidan had had one date in high school. Noah had consistently got the girl, or guy, of his choice. Everyone wanted to sleep with Noah, and he'd loved things that way.

Morgan didn't want to sleep with him, though. Morgan wanted to brush his hair and walk along the beach with him and make him sugary food when he was upset. For some stupid reason this made Noah want to kiss him. No, he didn't want to kiss him. He was a friend. Yes he did! Oh God.

“Sure, course I like him, he's a friend.” With every word Noah's stomach dropped like he was on a rollercoaster. Something about admitting feelings made him endlessly anxious. What feelings? He didn't have feelings; feelings were stupid. He loved Morgan. Shit.

“I don't remember you being such a dork.” Aidan straightened and opened the door. Noah glanced past him, watched Morgan making the kids laugh. “Anyway, I've got to go. See you tonight, dork. Don't kill my kids.”

Aidan's back received an aggressive middle finger as Noah left the caravan and sauntered over to where Morgan was sat. “Hello, my children,” he said, affectionately ruffling Tucker and Grace’s hair. “Hello child who is not mine.” He smiled at Morgan’s niece. She stared up at him with wide eyes, then whispered in Arabic to Morgan. He chuckled and whispered back, then looked up at Noah.

“Hi! You look absolutely radiant, Noah, I can't believe you finally shaved!” Morgan showed all his teeth when he smiled. If he hadn't looked so friendly it would've been threatening.

“Yeah, well Aidan just called me fat.” He sat down on the bar of Morgan’s exercise bike.

“You do have surprisingly chubby cheeks. It's cute, you look nice,” Morgan beamed. He put a hand on Noah's back, either to steady him on the bike or just to seem friendly. Either way it was electric.

“This is my niece, Indigo.” Morgan pointed to the little girl sat on the rowing machine. “She's practising her Arabic this week, aren't you?”

“Balaa,” Indigo said softly.

“You know, Noah can speak five languages,” Morgan told her enthusiastically. Noah basked in the attention. “But he doesn't speak Arabic.” Slightly less basking. But Morgan didn't seem any less proud.

Tucker raised his hand and waved it in Morgan's face, then said, “Can I speak now, sir?”

“Oh, of course,” Morgan smiled. “This isn't a class, Tucker, you're just spending the day with us.”

“Ok. I wanna go to the beach now. I'm gonna find a jellyfish.” He hopped up, started towards the steps, then looked back. “Can I?”

“Well, I don't see why not,” Morgan said. “I'll just go get a few things, you can take them down, can't you Noah?”

“Mm.” Noah shrugged, heaving himself up from the bike. “I guess. Come on children, let’s go get covered in salt and sand.” He began to heard everyone out of Noah's front yard and towards the cliff.

“Oh! And Noah?”

He turned back. “Yeah?”

“Please take them down the steps,” Morgan begged. He disappeared into his caravan.

“Fine,” Noah mumbled to himself. Three young children were staring up at him, looking for supervision more than anything, and it terrified him. For the next few minutes he was responsible for three other lives; he could barely take care of himself. “Alright then, I guess we'll do what Morgan says,” he said uncertainly, walking along the headland towards the steps.

“Uncle Noah.” Tucker was tugging on the bottom of his T-shirt. “Look.” He unfurled his hand, revealing six small screws.

“O-oh.” Noah didn't know how to respond to that. It wasn't a drill at least, his usual favourite toy, but Noah highly suspected he'd used the drill to get them.

“Tucker!” Grace scolded. “Where did you get those?”

“Dad’s chair!”

“You can't do that, he’s going to fall when he sits down, Tucker that's not showing hesed-“

“What does that mean?”

“It's loving-“

“Ew!”

“Kindness. Shut up-“

“Shut up!”

“Both of you shut up!” Noah exclaimed. “You sound like me and Aidan, you're too young to sound like me and Aidan. Just get along.”

They scowled at each other. Tucker scooped up a pebble and threw it backwards at Grace. She reached to pull his hair. The issue clearly wasn't resolved.

“Stop! Ok?” Noah stressed. “Tucker, it was irresponsible of you to take the screws out of your dad’s chair. Grace, leave him alone, he's a little kid.” He paused for a second. The only sound was the sea crashing. Noah thought he'd handled that fairly well.

“Die heathen!” Tucker grabbed Grace’s T-shirt and pulled her down the steps after him. Grace held him back while he swung rabidly at her. Indigo cowered behind a baffled Noah. He thought he'd handled that.

“Oh no! Please don't fight!”

Noah found himself holding a backpack and blanket as Morgan rushed to separate Grace and Tucker. He put a hand on each of their shoulders, keeping them a safe distance from each other.

“Tucker, why are you attacking your sister?” Morgan asked calmly.

“She's stupid,” Tucker shot back immediately. “And boring.”

“Well that isn't very nice. I think she's just looking out for you, and you should apologise…” He waited. “Now. Sincerely.”

“I guess,” Tucker sighed. “Sorry.”

“Good!” Morgan beamed. “Now Grace, I understand that you're just trying to be nice, but your brother isn't religious. Trying to share your beliefs with him won't help.”

“I understand that,” Grace said sincerely. “I'm sorry, Tucker.”

Tucker looked up at her, head cocked to the side thoughtfully. “Ok, race you to the sea!” And he was off.

“Wait! I still have my shoes on- Tucker!” Grace yelled after him. She started to sprint after him, then stopped and turned to Indigo. “Do you want to come?” Morgan nudged her gently towards Grace, but she shook her head. “Oh, ok then. I'll come back later, umm..." She raced after Tucker.

Morgan rushed to take his backpack off Noah. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to leave you with that.” He hung it over one arm and took Indigo’s hand.

“No, it's fine, uh…” Noah didn't know what say. “You're really good with kids, that was good.” They started to walk along the beach, looking for a place to set the blankets down.

“Thank you, I think children are absolutely wonderful.” Morgan squeezed Indigo’s hand and smiled.

“So you want kids then?” Noah didn't mind children. He'd growing up thinking they were a detrimental essential, but the second he found out he didn't have to have them he was immensely relieved. Being the sole carer of a future human being was a massive responsibility his childhood hadn't prepared him for. But if Morgan wanted kids… Morgan could do whatever he wanted. It wouldn't affect Noah.

“Oh, God no!” Morgan exclaimed. “Children are great, but in small doses. I could never be that calm and understanding if I had to deal with an argument like that every few minutes.” He gestured behind then, where Grace and Tucker were aggressively splashing each other in the surf. "I much prefer other people's children."

Noah nodded, the hammering in his chest having receded a little. He found himself smiling but couldn't surmise as to why.

Morgan spread the blanket out on a flat piece of sand, the weather was mild enough that it didn't need to be held down, and set his backpack down on it. "Here, Indigo." He produced an old spade. "Do you want this?"

She grinned and took it. "Shukraan."

"Aw, you remembered, good girl," Morgan praised her. "Show me when you're done, ok?"

Indigo nodded, then turned and looked out to sea. She watched it carefully for a moment, eyes fixed firmly on the line where the waves broke. Shielding her eyes, she glanced briefly to the sun. Satisfactory, apparently, because she stepped away from the blanket then walked a little towards the sea, and began to dig a hole.

"You haven't even given her a bucket, y'know?" Noah said, stretching out on the blanket. He didn't appreciate the brightness of the sun, but he craved its warmth like a lizard did a heat lamp.

"It's alright, she doesn't want one yet." Morgan sat cross-legged beside Noah. "She knows exactly what she's doing."

The sea was calm today, emitting gentle, soothing sounds as the crests spread out across the sand. Noah closed his eyes and placed a hand on his chest, which didn't feel the slightest bit empty. He could feel the pumping of his heart and the slow swelling and deflating of his lungs all occurring beneath the strong arch of his ribs. It felt real.

"Noah?"

Morgan's voice sounded miles away. Noah's brain had taken a vacation and was loath to come back. "Mm."

"You're so pretty."

"What?" Noah's brain was fully engaged now. He sat up and stared at Morgan.

"Sorry, sorry." He shrank under Noah's gaze. "It's just, you're so attractive and the sun was shining in your hair and you just looked really happy. I'll be quite, I'm sorry."

"No, it's ok." Noah lay back down. "Keep telling me how attractive I am, I like that."

"You're an asshole," Morgan giggled, resting on his side next to Noah. Noah rolled over so that he was facing Morgan and tried to shove him over. He was laughing so much he didn't have control over his arms. Surprisingly, he felt anything but powerless.

"Shut up! That's not what I asked you to do!"

"Sorry." Morgan was so close their noses were almost touching. In a few centimetres they'd be kissing. "You're so beautiful, Noah." If his eyes hadn't been so sincere Noah would've thought he was joking. Morgan reached up and brushed a hand through Noah's hair, across his neck, over his shoulder, and down his side. He let his hand rest there, pulling Noah a millimetre closer until their noses brushed. Noah shivered.

It wasn't unusual for Morgan to do things like brush his hair off his face or put his arm around him as they watched TV. He even kissed him on the cheek to greet him and hugged him tightly to say goodby. If he wanted to show Noah something he would often grab his hand and drag him to it. Noah enjoyed all of this, but he'd never thought of it as intimate before. But this, Morgan's hand on his hip as they smiled stupidly at each from mere centimetres away, felt dizzying, overpowering, loving.

"Kiss me."

Morgan drew back a little and Noah worried he'd overstepped the line. Did Morgan even like kissing? He'd mentioned kissing someone before. That didn't mean he'd want to kiss Noah thought. God, he was so stupid!

"Wh-what?" Morgan stammered.

"Kiss me?" The idea was planted in his mind now, he couldn't retract it. He desperately wanted Morgan to kiss him.

"Oh, oh, ok." Morgan's voice was shaky. "Like this?" He leaned in and brushed his lips against Noah's. Soft, sweet, but hardly a kiss at all.

"No, damnit-" Noah grabbed two handfuls of Morgan's T-shirt and pulled him roughly against his chest, then kissed him with equal vigour. Morgan seemed startled at first, hand gripping Noah's waist tightly, but the corners of his mouth were curled in to a smile. "Like that!" Noah gasped when he pulled back.

"Ah," Morgan nodded. "I can see why you'd want to be kissed like that, it's very nice." Noah blushed. No one had ever enjoyed just kissing him before. It was usually what came after the kissing that they liked.

"Kiss me again then," he begged, relaxing his grip on Morgan's shirt and laying his hands on his chest.

"You taste like cigarettes," Morgan protested, but he was leaning in anyway.

"I do not! Kiss me!" Noah was in no danger of not being kissed.

"No." Morgan tilted his head to the side and kissed Noah. It was much gentler and slower. Noah had learnt that kissing was a means to an end, a necessity no one really wanted to go through. For Morgan, kissing was the most intimate thing he had to offer and it showed.

The second Morgan pulled back Noah wriggled closer, not wanting to lose the warm touch of Morgan's lips on his own. "It's so good," he whispered, tucking his head into Morgan's chest.

"What is?"

"Kiss me," Noah replied. Morgan kissed him on the forehead and he laughed. "Yeah, that's good too."

He was overwhelmed by fully developed, overbearing, proper emotions. They hadn't faded as the kiss had ended, as Noah had expected them to, but stuck around to make his heart hammer and his stomach flip. It wasn't entirely uncomfortable, and Morgan's forehead against his and his hand on his waist made Noah feel grounded and solid. He figured he quite liked it.

"Morgan?" His voice merged with the sea breeze.

"Yeah?"

"Stop feeling my love handles!" Noah laughed, placing his own hand on top of Morgan's.

"Oh!" Morgan blushed and quickly pulled both hands against his chest. "Sorry. Sorry, I didn't mean to. It's just... Nice. You feel nice, I didn't think... I'm sorry."

"Hey, I'm just kidding," Noah grinned, grabbing Morgan's hand. "You can put your hand back, I kinda like it."

Tentatively, Morgan placed his hand back on Noah's side, dragging his thumb soothingly back and forth. Noah smiled and closed his eyes, allowing his head to rest heavily on his hand. He could sense Morgan watching him, trying not to, failing. It was sweet.

Eventually Morgan rolled over and opened his backpack. "Want a book?" He asked, beginning to unload a few paper backs.

"Whatcha got?" Noah flopped back on to his back. His limbs were heavy, but not in the usual dreary, crippling way. He was so relaxed he felt like he was melting in to the blanket.

"Umm, The Puzzle of Ethics, a murder mystery, and my training notebook." Morgan dropped a small book on Noah's chest and he lifted it up to read the title.

"I can't read this alphabet," he said, passing the book back.

"Oh, sorry. Then it's murder mystery or... My notebook?"

Noah surprised Morgan by taking his personal training notes. He used the book to block out the sun as he skimmed Morgan's immaculate cursive. Morgan sprawled on his stomach beside, engrossed in his ethics book.

Noah had always assumed Morgan was a good personal trainer. Not only was he in great shape, an obvious essential, but he was gentle and patient too. He never pushed Noah to do things he was uncomfortable with and he didn't even attempt to offer him food he didn't enjoy. But his notes were so thoughtful, so caring and considerate, that Noah could only assume he was the best personal trainer out there.

' _BMI is utter crap. Don't let anyone judge themselves based on their BMI, its detrimental to their mental health and ultimately incorrect. Other factors to judge people's health by include: muscle mass, endurance, mental state, organ function. Mental health is the most important factor when making any decisions, and sometimes the best thing for your mental health is neither exercise nor a restrictive diet._ '

His notes were a little inconsistent and scatter-brained, sometimes he began a new thought halfway through a sentence then forgot to return to his original point. When it began to get slightly more scientific several words had their Arabic translations scrawled over the top. Anyone who hired Morgan as a personal trainer was incredibly lucky.

"Morgan!" He poked him excitedly in the arm. "You're the greatest personal trainer in the world!"

"That's so nice of you to say, Noah, thank you!" Morgan beamed, his eyes scrunched.

Noah rolled back over, intending to settle down with the rest of Morgan's notes, but he suddenly found something cold and dripping dropped on his face. "What the hell?" He exclaimed, sitting up instantly and wiping the ball of seaweed from his eyes.

"I found it," Tucker said proudly. "When's lunch?"

"I dunno. I guess I'll go start up the BBQ." Noah stretched, rubbed his eyes, and returned Morgan's notebook. "You want to come help?" He offered Tucker.

"No. Thanks. But call me later," he said, running back into the sea.

"Can I come, please?" The softest of taps on Noah's shoulder. He turned to find Indigo stood behind him.

"Yeah, course you can. Come on." Noah stood and offered his hand to Indigo, but she shook her head, unwilling to take it. "Ok."

“Oh, Noah, please don't smoke or drink in front of my niece,” Morgan called after them.

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” Noah was happy to be destructive inside his own little bubble, but he'd never dare let his ruinous habits impact on other people, especially children.

At the top of the headland Noah opened up his old BBQ, probably hazardous by now due to its levels of rust, and dumped some coal in it. Adding scrunched up paper to the pile was advisable, but Noah could never tell which of his papers were important and which were scrap, so he lit a match and simply tossed it into the charcoal. Within a few minutes it was ablaze.

“Alright.” Noah slumped down on to the picnic table. “Now we just wait for this to burn out. You sure you wanna stay?”

“Of course.” Indigo climbed up on to the bench and sat down on the table. “I have an inquiry to make, if that's alright?”

“Oh.” Noah was taken aback. Indigo didn't even look old enough to use the word inquiry, never mind the fact that he hadn't heard two words out of her since she arrived. “Well, yeah, sure.”

“Excellent. Morgan tells me you were quite the intuitive child, but your parents didn't deal with it very well. I'm afraid my mum’s newfound interest in religion will interfere with my interests in science and the natural world, and I don't want that to cause any problems between us. She's all I have. How do you suggest I prevent a rift from occurring?” She watched him intently, scanning his face for any sort of reaction.

“Ummm…” Noah faltered. “How old are you?”

“Nine. Ten in four months.” Her voice was patient, she was giving Noah all the time he needed.

“I, umm, I don't know how much help I'll be, Indigo. Religion was always a huge problem for me and my father. I just wasn't interested at all and it made him furious. I won't tell you what I did, because it was stupid and argumentative and I think I regret it now. But um, you don't have to believe in Allah or follow the Qur’an to learn about Islam. It's a storied religion, just go along and learn what you can. Then you can leave home and develop your own beliefs.

“It sounds boring and preventative right now, but if not then… Then… One day you're going to feel really out of touch with your religion and your culture. And maybe you won't mind that, I don't know, but I think it's kinda of shitty- Sorry, sorry, can't say that. It… Makes you feel kind of alone.” He looked up at Indigo, who was carefully processing this information. “Do you understand? I can't explain it very well.”

“I think so,” she said slowly. “Even if I don't actively follow the religion I should immerse myself in the culture, because you didn't and now you feel… Not Jewish?”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Not Jewish.” The wind was stronger on the headland, ruffling Noah's hair. “Can I ask you something?”

“Why am I suddenly so talkative?”

“Yeah, that,” he nodded.

“I don't like to talk when I don't know who I'm talking to. It makes me nervous, I don't want to say the wrong thing. I prefer one on one situations.” She looked down at her hands. “Is that ok? Most people think it's strange.”

“I think that's fine,” Noah smiled, hoping he looked comforting. “I don't like when there's too many people around, I tend to like people one at a time.”

“And you like my uncle a lot,” Indigo said softly.

“Yeah, an awful lot.” Noah couldn't stop himself from smiling. “Wanna help me pick the meat?”

“Ok.”

Twenty minutes later, once the fire had died down on the BBQ, Noah crammed defrosted chicken and hotdogs on to the grill. He'd adorned Indigo with a paper chefs hat, made out of water bills, and an apron fashioned from an old bedsheets. She loved dressing up, and Noah said the next time she came to visit he'd make her a proper costume. She wanted to look like a future neurosurgeon. Noah said she already looked like a future neurosurgeon.

“Just don't set yourself on fire, ok?” Noah chuckled, passing Indigo the spatula as he leant over the cliff to yell to Grace and Tucker. He retrieved the spatula and sent Indigo inside for bread, so that by the time everyone was gathered on the headland most of the food was plated. “Ketchup and mustard are on the table. And hummus, if you're an abomination like Morgan.”

“Hey!” Morgan protested, taking a chicken burger out of the bun. “There's nothing wrong with hummus.”

“Of course, everyone loves flavourless mush.” Noah squeezed on to the bench beside Morgan, settling down with the remaining hotdogs and Morgan's empty bread bun, which he filled with chips. Morgan kissed him on the cheek. Noah glared at him in mock disgust, then leaned just a little more heavily on his shoulder. Tucker pretended to throw up.

After lunch Noah tried to make smores with Morgan's rice crackers, which only he enjoyed, and everyone returned to the beach. While Morgan played some variation of British football with Grace and Tucker, Indigo took Noah over to the hole she'd dug earlier, which the tide had long since washed over and retreated. She retrieved a bucket then peered over the edge.

“Look!”

Noah leaned over the hole. It was rectangular, almost tub shaped, and full of clear water. Circling around the bottom of the hole was a fish.

“It's so pretty!” Indigo cooed, lying on her stomach and more closely inspecting the fish. “And sad. I'll put it back now.” Slowly, carefully, she lowered the bucket into the hole and scooped up the fish, then waded out into the sea before returning the fish to its natural habitat.

“What if it gets eaten by, I dunno, a bigger fish?” Noah asked as they walked back towards the others.

“Then that's life. It's sad but it happens. It needs to go home so it can live with the other fish and eat and procreate, if it wants to. It would be detrimental to leave it on its own.”

Noah could see her point. Out in the world, interacting with other people and engaging in social situations, he felt vulnerable and self-conscious, but ultimately it was better. Shutting yourself away eliminated all possibilities, good and bad, and Noah didn't think he was willing to give all of those up.

“Noah!” Morgan called excitedly. “Here!” He kicked the ball over to him, then tackled him for it and passed it to Grace.

“Hey! That's not fair!” Noah raced after him, kicked the ball from between his legs, and passed it to Indigo. “I don't know what we're playing but avenge me!”

They played until the sky began to fade to orange, and they had to take the kids back up to the caravan to be collected. Noah barely caught a glimpse of Morgan's sister, she stayed in her hire car while Noah strapped Indigo in. She waved goodbye to Noah from the back window.

Aidan was late, stumbling out of the car and apologising profusely. Still, he checked both of his kids over for any injuries.

“Thanks for looking after my kids, Noah,” Aidan said, clapping him on the shoulder. “I'm sorry for earlier, I just… I'm sorry.”

“No, no, you were-“ He glanced over his shoulder at Morgan, “You were kind of right.”

“Kids, say goodbye to your uncle Noah,” Aidan called.

“Bye uncle Noah!” Tucker hugged him briefly then raced for the car.

“Bye uncle Noah.” Grace squeezed him tightly. “I saw you kissing uncle Morgan. I think maybe the Torah’s wrong about that, there's nothing wrong with another man making you happy. I think I'll choose to disregard that rule.”

“I think that's a wonderful idea,” Noah replied, kissing the top of her head. “You're real special, Grace. See you soon.”

Morgan said he had to email some clients, so Noah nestled into his computer chair to unwind. Well, to stress out in the void of the internet. Time passed more quickly there, slipping away before Noah had the chance to do anything notable with it, so he logged off and went to bed. His head was swimming.

The blankets weighed heavy on Noah's back. He felt hot and shivery. His brain, sick and exhausted after a day of social interaction, begged for sleep. His spine tingled. His fingers itched to use the computer.

Bundling himself in a light blanket, Noah padded out his caravan and on to Morgan's steps, where he knocked lightly on the door.

“Oh, hey Noah,” Morgan grinned when he opened the door. He was dressed in loose shorts and a baggy T-shirt, his hair messy and free. “Are you ok?”

“I don't know,” Noah mumbled. He sounded like a sulky child and he hated it, but he hadn't yet mastered Morgan's permanent positivity. “I feel sick.”

“What sort of sick?” Morgan pressed a hand on his forehead and Noah leaned into the touch. It eased the groaning in his head a little.

“I don't know. My brain’s sick and it needs sleep to get better but it's so sick it can't even sleep.” He shuffled closer to Morgan. “Does that make sense?”

“Perfect sense.” Hands tangled in Noah's hair. Morgan kissed his forehead. “Do you want to come to bed?”

Noah peered past him into his pristine caravan, lit softly by the setting sun. Everything looked pale and tranquil, perfect to calm his frantic mind. “If you're ok with that.”

“Aw, thank you for thinking of me, but I have no problems at all with sharing a bed.” They retreated inside. When Morgan locked the door Noah didn't feel confined but safe.

He lay down beside Morgan. The bed was thin and he found that once again they were close enough to kiss. Would Morgan want to kiss him again? Maybe it had just been a one time thing. They hadn't spoken of it, Noah doubted they ever would.

Morgan wrapped his lean fingers around Noah's waist, pulled him closer. Their noses brushed. Their lips touched. Morgan kissed him softly.

Noah smirked. There was a dull ache behind his eyes, but it was flickering now, fading away. Morgan's pillows were soft and fresh and his side sunk into the mattress. Everything had the refreshing scent of clean linen.

“Can I say something really fucking kinky?” Noah asked quietly.

Morgan's cheeks heated up and he gave a small shrug. “I-I guess.”

“I've never had someone kiss me because I'm chubby before.” Morgan's hand froze on Noah's waist, where previously his thumb had been rubbing slow circles on an exposed strip of skin. “It's normally, sort of, despite, y’know? Like, it sucks that you're fat but you're kind of hot anyway. It's just really, really sweet to have someone kiss you because of how damn soft your stomach is.”

“That's, that's horrible Noah,” Morgan gawked. “You should never have to settle for someone who doesn't love all your great character traits. And wanting someone to love you isn't kinky, it's perfectly ok. Advisable, I'd say.”

When Noah spread out on his stomach he took up just a little more than his fair share of the bed, but Morgan didn't mind. He let Morgan's gentle words wash over him with the sound of waves breaking as a background. It slowed the rabid wonderings of his mind and made him instantly sleepy.

“You should make a podcast,” he murmured, unsure if Morgan could hear him or if his words were lost in the pillow.

“Oh, really?” Morgan sounded jubilant. “What of?”

“Dunno. Personal training stuff. Body positivity stuff. Your voice is really soothing.” Morgan's voice was high pitched and slightly accented but incredibly animated. Noah could listen to him talk all day. He often did.

“That's an amazing idea! Everyone who can't afford a personal trained can get helpful advice that doesn't come from biased sites trying to sell their products. And-“ He kissed Noah's hair, “Who doesn't want to hear about how cute they are?”

“Give me a demo podcast then,” Noah hummed.

“Alright then,” Morgan laughed. He settled down beside Noah, fingertips resting on his arm. “Did you know swimming is the best possible exercise to keep you healthy? My boyfriend is the greatest swimmer I know, we go swimming in the sea nearly every morning…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the fluff :) Thanks for reading!


	5. Body Positivity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for more fluff! Short bit of fluff :D

"Are you done being weird yet?" Noah asked. He shivered as a breeze dusted across his back and wrapped his arms more tightly about himself.

"I'm not being weird," Morgan said defensively. "I'm not being weird at all. Unless you're uncomfortable, then I'll stop." He looked expectantly at Noah, eyes wide with anticipation. He hadn't been able to stop smiling for the past five minutes and Noah didn't know whether he should take that as a compliment or not.

"Oh, no," he said sarcastically, "There's nothing about sitting in my underwear while you just grin at me that makes me uncomfortable. Nothing at all."

"Perfect!" Morgan beamed. "Or are you being sarcastic? I suppose it feels like a bit of a power play, doesn't it? Here, I'll take my shirt off too."

Noah's jaw slackened and he stared as Moran revealed dark skin moulded tightly to chiselled muscle.

"Who's being weird now?" Morgan laughed.

Noah shook his head clear. "Still you. I have every right to stare; you look like a fucking God, and I have the capacity for sexual attraction. What kind of weird, romantic kick are you getting out of seeing my chubby ass?"

"Aww, Noah." Morgan reached out and took his hands, bridging the gap between them. "You're incredibly attractive to look at. And you have freckles and those cute little lines on your tummy, you're fascinating!"

"Those lines are stretch marks, I have them because I'm fat," Noah grumbled. He wanted to pull his hands from Morgan's and wrap them back around his waist, but he refrained. He was curious. He wanted to hear about how attractive Morgan found him.

"They're wonderful! I love them." Morgan lifted Noah's hands and kissed his knuckles. Noah rolled his eyes. It was sappy and silly but honestly kind of growing on him. Having an affectionate partner felt nice.

"And I guess it is a weird romance thing," Morgan continued. "It's just intimacy without the sex." He leaned in until his breath tickled Noah's neck. "Can I touch your shoulders? Is that ok?"

"Yea- umm, yeah, course." No one had ever, ever, asked Noah before if they could touch him intimately. He didn't feel as thought he'd ever been forced in to anything, but he'd lost his virginity at thirteen to a girl two years older than him and everything had felt very fast and new and uncertain. He'd never done anything slow or gentle, it was always rushed; as if people were ashamed to be with him.

"Thank you." Morgan kissed his shoulder lightly. "Your freckles are so cute, I love them," he whispered. "You're so pretty, Noah."

"Nah," Noah shrugged. He was watching the lean muscles on Morgan's sides twist as he moved. He was a simple creature; he wanted to touch the pretty boy.

"Do you mind if I, umm, umm..." He trailed off. He didn't want to say it.

"Feel my six pack?" Morgan giggled. "Go for it."

"Cool..." Tentatively, Noah ran his fingers across Morgan's torso. He felt like steel. Like marble. Like the wall of cool air that paraded the headland. "You are so hot," Noah sighed.

"Aww, thanks," Morgan blushed. He leant his forehead against Noah's. "Is it ok if I do the same?"

"What?" Noah scoffed. "Feel my six pack? Sure, course."

"Noah." Morgan laughed and kissed his nose. "You're so silly. I feel like a slate mine; you feel like marshmallow fluff and warm kittens and pillowy throws. Which of those things are better?"

"To be honest, I am a fan of a good slate mine, but my love of artificial sweeteners wins here. The marshmallow fluff."

"Great choice." Touch lighter than a feather, Morgan settled his hands on Noah's sides. "Is this ok?" Noah nodded. "Good."

Morgan kissed him without urgency. It was lazy, intimate, loving. Noah had enjoyed sex, but this was so entirely different and made him feel another kind of pleasure altogether. When Morgan stopped kissing him he didn't feel used, he felt appreciated. Loved.

Morgan pressed his lips together and breathed out softly. "You feel so warm and healthy. Nothing's ever felt as good as kissing you."

"I- umm, I think, it's umm, uh, I... Ah, feelings!" Noah choked. "I just really, really love you. Like, lots. I love you so much, it's crazy. I love you."

Morgan smirked to himself. He knew it was the first time that Noah had ever said that, to anyone not just to him, but he also knew how much Noah would freak out and backtrack if he made a big deal out of it. "I love you lots too, Noah," he said softly.

"Now, you promised me some illegally sourced Netflix and all I've got so far is you feeling my chub up, so are we gonna watch this shit or what?" Noah demanded, taking his laptop from the side of the bed and holding it out.

"Yes, of course." Morgan said.

Noah looked at his shirt, crumpled on the floor with almost ever other article of clothing he owned, then shrugged and wriggled under the covers. Morgan climbed in beside him.

"Y'know, you can put your hand on my stomach if you like. Just cause I know you're a kinky bastard and you like that, not because it makes me feel good or anything," Noah said, keeping his eyes firmly on the laptop screen.

"Alright, whatever you say." Morgan rolled his eyes, but obliged by softly placing a hand on Noah's stomach. Then he rested his head on Noah's should so he could watch the screen.

"Morgan, you're just the best person ever," Noah smiled, allowing himself a sideways glance.

"Mm, no," he shook his head. "I can think of someone better." He kissed Noah's neck.

"Fine, I'll accept that," Noah boasted, donning a fake, cheesy smile.

"Actually, I was thinking about Barack Obama," Morgan sniggered. "He is a great man."

"Oh my God, you dork!" Noah exclaimed. "No more talking, illegal TV show time." He shushed Morgan dramatically.

"Ok. I love you," Morgan whispered quietly.

"I'll allow that. Love you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FLUFF  
> Thanks for reading :)


	6. Hanukkah

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare for angst, I'm sorry.

Just because it was Hanukkah didn't mean Noah was a morning person. It took enormous effort for him to drag himself out of bed, force himself to shower, battle with his hair. He was relatively awake by eleven am, what Noah considered the middle of the night, but it would take a great deal of coffee before he could interact with any other human beings. Except Morgan, of course.

Obviously Morgan was alert and smartly dressed by the time Noah called on him. He'd made an immense effort with his outfit, dressed in a white shirt and waistcoat with his hair tied back and smoothed down. His smile alone was so energetic it made Noah tired.

“I am so honoured that your family would invite me to Hanukkah, Noah, that's so sweet of your brother,” Morgan gushed, passing Noah a cup of coffee. It was sickly and dark; just the way he liked it.

“This isn't Hanukkah,” Noah rumbled after a sip of coffee. “It's-“

“It's the second day of Tevet, the last day of Hanukkah, symbolic of the eighth day the oil lamp managed to burn for. Judaism is absolutely fascinating, I understand why Grace likes it so much.”

Noah took a long, steamy sip of coffee. His brain was not awake enough for Morgan's enthusiasm.

“I love your sweater, Noah,” Morgan continued as he locked up his caravan. “-You need to lock your door, by the way- It's super cute. Not very… Festive though.”

Noah looked down at his old pac man sweater. He'd made it from some spare fabric when he was eighteen, a protest against Hanukkah, and it had become his holiday sweater ever since. Over the years it had grown tattered around the appliqué and slightly tighter than Noah liked his clothes to be, but he'd never found the motivation to make a new one.

“It's fine, it's not like I'm actually Jewish.” Morgan took his keys from him and locked his door while he stared on in a sleepy stupor. “You know we're just going for the food, right?”

“That's not true! We're going for the companionship and-“

“The alcohol.” They started to walk towards the bus stop.

“No! The family tradition! My family celebrate Eid and Christmas, but they never really put much effort in to either. We don't have any traditions,” Morgan told him. Noah wished his family had been as relaxed about religion. Well, his father least. If he'd seen him kissing an interfaith Egyptian man he'd have thrown a fit.

“You don't fast in summer or anything, do you?” Noah asked. Unconsciously, he could go several days without eating, but the second he intentionally tried to constrict his diet he found he could think about nothing but food.

“No. I used to when I was younger, but I don't believe in Allah so I can't show my respect for someone I don't believe in. Things like Zakāt though, charity, I think they're important whether you're religious or not.”

They reached the bus stop. Noah sat down, still sipping his coffee, and Morgan leaned against the frame. He looked casual and inviting and if Noah hadn't been so tired he would've got up to hug him.

“Integrity not ideology,” Noah said softly. “It's what, umm, it’s what I always told my dad, when he said I was a bad personal for not following the Torah. It would work, if I actually had any morals.”

“I think you have some pretty solid morals. You don't discriminate on race, religion, or sexuality. You're not misogynistic or xenophobic. You're already doing better than most of the country- oh, the bus!” Morgan straightened and stuck his hand out into the road, beckoning for Noah to join him. Reluctantly, he stood up and leaned against Morgan's shoulder. "Also-" Morgan kissed him on the cheek, "You can be super nice when you want to be."

The bus was quiet and warm. Noah curled up against Morgan's shoulder and tried to regain a few hours of sleep while Morgan marvelled at the suburban Californian architecture he saw every day. As they neared Aidan's neighbourhood he gently woke a very groggy Noah, who wanted more coffee, and got off the bus.

“So, we’re going to nick the rugelach and leggit out, right?” Noah asked, tucking his hands into his sweater as if he was cold. It was really just for aesthetic.

Morgan chuckled. “Oh, Noah, you're funny.” He glanced at Noah's deadly serious face. “You are joking, aren't you? Hanukkah is all about family, it has so many family traditions. We’re not going for the food-“

“Speak for yourself.”

“We're going for the companionship.”

Every year Noah would show up at Aidan's house on the last day of Hanukkah, stuff his pockets with as much food as possible, then make small talk over dinner and leave before dessert. Aidan was always secretly hurt, he made a huge effort to impress their father and ever since their mother had died he'd tried so hard to include Noah in festivities. He hadn't cared though; it wasn't his religion.

But Morgan, Morgan who had grown up going to church every Sunday and mosque, when his mother could be bothered to take him, with his parents speaking nothing but Arabic at home and his school valiantly preaching Protestantism, who had somehow taken all of this on board and decided all of it was utter bullshit, could see past the religious aspect of Hanukkah and thought only of spending time with Noah's family.

Noah reached out and grabbed Morgan's hand. “Oh.” Morgan stopped and looked down at his hand, then curiously back up at Noah. “Are we doing this now?”

“Yes,” Noah snapped, glaring at the floor and shuffling slightly closer to Morgan.

“Ok.” Morgan leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. “I like it.”

Aidan's front windows were adorned with lanterns, obviously curtesy of Grace, but aside from the flickering candle lights the front of the house was still. “We'll go round the back,” Noah said. Then, raising his eyebrows, “That's where all the action is.”

“How nice! Everyone's working in the kitchen,” Morgan beamed.

Noah shook his head and lead Morgan round to the back garden, which was clean and painted with a fully functioning pool (Noah was still proud of his handiwork there). The kitchen was lit with a menorah, as well as its usual dim overhead lights. They entered the back door and were immediately hit with a wave of panic.

“Don't let Tucker touch that-“

“I'm not touching that!”

“You're not making that right!”

“I am making that right, Grace! What do you know about Hanukkah?”

“More than yo- Hi uncle Noah!” Grace paused her assault on her father to turn and hug Noah.

“Hello, religious child,” Noah said, patting her hair awkwardly. “Non-religious child.” He lifted Tucker off the counter, feigning responsibility but really he just wanted to get to the stove. Underwhelmed, the kids moved away to greet Morgan, who was far more enthusiastic.

“Aidan, why is there no cheese on the latkes?” Noah grumbled, eating handful of grated cheese while Aidan's back was turned.

“Because we’re not Hungarian,” Aidan garbled, chopping a carrot in to uneven pieces. “Shut up and deal with your potato cake- Stop that!” He snatched Noah's hand away from the cheese bowl.

“Don't deprive me of holiday calories.” Noah tucked the bowl under his arm, out of Aidan's reach. “When's lunch?”

“When it's ready, piss off!” He shooed Noah out of the kitchen. “Go find another chair somewhere, there's not enough space at the table.”

Leaving Morgan with the kids and taking the cheese with him, Noah wandered out into the rest of the house to find a chair. Sarah was wrestling with Aidan's computer chair, trying to remove it from the study. He tried to hurry past.

“Oh, Noah!” She called. “Can you please help me?”

He groaned and turned back to her. “No, you still don't forgive me for letting your kid shave her head. I was just trying to spend so equality time with… your son.”

“Tucker,” she scowled.

“Yeah. Anyway, she has hair now, what's the problem?” When Noah was eight he'd shaved all his hair off, expecting to shame his father in synagogue, for a laugh. Instead he got left at home, after a harsh slap across the face. He'd never meant to get Grace into trouble, but he'd never learned how to act around children. When he was a child he'd preferred the company of adults and as an adult he preferred the company of no one.

Sarah sighed. Somehow she had infinite patience with Noah; it seemed to come with marrying Aidan. “It's fine. Just help me.”

Noah shooed Sarah out the way and flipped the chair over, carrying it sideways through the door. He turned back and gave her a look that told her she was infinitely more stupid than him. She brushed it off.

“So, how's your love life faring? You and Morgan seem to get along really well.” Sarah flashed Noah a smile as she started to push the chair down the corridor.

“I'm not telling you anything about my love life,” Noah grumbled, following her back to the kitchen. “It's none of your business.” He paused. “But Morgan is the greatest human being in the world and I love him and everything before I met Morgan was shitty and uncomfortable but now I feel great and I didn't say anything.” He pointed an accusatory finger at Sarah, as if she'd somehow tortured the information out of him.

“Oh Noah,” She stopped at the table, trying in vain to force the handles of the desk chair beneath it, “You're so strange.”

Noah watched for a few agonising seconds as Sarah struggled with the chair, then snatched it off her. “No, you're doing it wrong,” he stressed, effortlessly unclipping the handles and placing them on the table.

Sarah stared at him for a moment, then shook her head and ruffled his hair. “You're strange, Noah.”

Morgan was still entertaining the kids, telling them something gruesome about biology that fascinated Tucker and freaked Grace out. Noah was sure they loved Morgan more than him but he didn't care; he loved Morgan more than them.

Aidan was hovered over the cooker but his manner was far less flustered than before and several dishes were already plated, waiting in the counter top. Noah eyed them eagerly.

“Noah, don't touch the food,” Aidan growled.

“Piss off,” he muttered under his breath, slinking away.

“Swear jar! Swear jar!” Tucker yelled, pointing excitedly at Noah. “You gotta put a dollar in the swear jar!”

“You have a swear jar?” Noah laughed. “Wow, that's sad.”

“It's more of an emergency savings jar, just put something in,” Aidan said, pointing to the jar on top of the fridge.

Noah stuck his hand in his pocket and fished around for some change. Not having a wallet hadn't been a problem when he was an unemployed recluse, but suddenly he had a credit card and a pay check and a boyfriend he wanted to take on dates. He had to organise his funds.

“I've got a five,” Noah said eventually. “One of you kids better do well in college.” He watched Tucker try to pull the handle off a cupboard. “It's probably you, Grace.”

Grace said an agonisingly long prayer before they were allowed to eat, then she lit a candle and gave a passionate speech about how she believed they should stick to tradition and eat their meal in the evening. It ended with her yelling at Tucker, who had decided to start on the doughnuts.

“Leave him, Grace,” Aidan said tiredly. He hadn't worked all morning for Grace to ruin their meal with her speech. “But Tucker, come on, you could've at least started with some vegetables.”

Tucker looked to Aidan, who didn't have the energy left to scowl, then to Noah, who reached out and took a handful of doughnuts himself. Aidan and Grace looked deeply disappointed, but now everyone was nervously reaching into the middle of the table.

"Uncle Morgan," Grace turned excitedly to face him, "Do you know why we cook everything in oil on Hanukkah?"

Morgan grinned across at Noah. Of course he knew, over the past few months he'd become an expert on Hanukkah. "I might've heard something," he smiled. "But why don't you tell me all the details?"

Exuberant, Grace launched into an excruciatingly detailed story of the maccabees defending their temple. Tucker pulled a disgusted face. "That's not fair, I don't want to hear that."

"How about I tell you how to dismantle a car?" Noah offered, sandwiching some pasta between two latkes.

"Do not teach him that," Sarah said flatly. "We've had enough trouble since you taught him the menthos and coke trick."

Noah chuckled. "Classic. Don't worry about it, he won't remember all of this."

While Grace continued with her own story, Noah began an excitable spiel about the fastest way to dismantle a car. Sarah smiled across the table at Aidan as they started the first conversation in a long time that didn't revolve around children.

-

"I can't believe you still have that sweater."

After the table had been cleared and the dishwasher loaded, Tucker had taken Morgan outside to ask his advice on a strange bug he found, Grace had begged her mum for help setting up some traditional games (Noah had somehow agreed to sing religious songs with her later), so Noah and Aidan had retreated to the living room for some 'quality' bonding time.

"It's my Hanukkah sweater now," Noah told his brother. "I'm not having any of that religious crap."

"The same day you made that sweater you fucked the head cheerleader ." Aidan started at him in wonder. "You're insane, Noah."

"At least I got some action in high school," Noah said smugly, "Unlike you..."

Aidan was unfazed by this. "At least I've got a wife and kids and a happy family. What do you have?"

Noah sighed. He didn't like being left alone with Aidan for this exact reason. He was too protective, wanted to be too involved in Noah's life, and although he knew he meant well he couldn't bare it. Always a big brother, never just a friend.

"For once I actually do have something," Noah retaliated. "I have a boyfriend and I like him a lot." For some reason he couldn't tell anyone else he loved Morgan. It was a like a secret between the two of them, only ever to be uttered in the darkness and the silence.

"Yeah, for just now. But it won't last." Aidan's tone was matter-of-fact, but he seemed to regret his words the moment they left his lips.

Despite his desperation to remain calm Noah felt anger bubbling at the back of his mind. Why would Morgan break up with him? He was funny and attractive and, ok, he was an emotional wreck but so was Morgan. Forcing down an uncomfortable feeling, he confronted Aidan.

“Why do you think Morgan's going to break up with me?” Noah demanded. His eyes were getting hot and sticky and he knew he was going to cry if he carried on yelling. “What am I doing wrong?”

Aidan wouldn't reply. He was worried or ashamed and regretted what he'd said.

“Aidan!” Noah demanded. A single tear escaped from his eye. Aidan broke.

“I don't think Morgan's going to break up with you, ok?” He sighed, slowly distancing himself from Noah. “God knows he's insanely in love with you.” He paused.

“Then what is it?” Noah asked.

“I always thought you'd break up with Morgan.”

Silence. Noah gritted his teeth together, trying and failing to stop the tears dripping down his face. Was he a terrible person? An awful boyfriend? Why was it so obvious that Morgan liked him but seemed impossible that he could love him in return?

“Why?” Noah whispered.

“Look, I never meant to make you upset-“

“Why?” He shouted, not caring anymore if everyone else heard him.

“It's just, come on Noah, you don't really have serious relationships, do you?” Aidan was using his well practised ‘big brother voice’ in an inane attempt to calm Noah down. “And even when you do, Morgan's not exactly the kind of guy you go for. He's not interested in the same stuff as you, he doesn't want to sleep with you, I just…” He sighed. “I just always assumed it would be a quick thing, like usual. You were feeling bad, he was into you…”

Noah's eyes were flooded with tears now. Aidan was so… so… so mean! He wanted to yell, take all his fury out on his brother, try to explain himself, but he couldn't justify it. Who was he to say what love is? He'd never experienced anything like what Morgan made him feel, how was he to know that was love?

“Hey guys, everything ok?” Morgan asked, entering the room behind Noah.

“I, I want to go home,” Noah said softly.

“I know you aren't a huge fan of religion, but Grace is really looking forward to singing-“

“I want to go home.” His voice was firmer now, serious. He turned to glare feebly at Morgan.

“Oh…” Morgan reached out and wiped the tears from Noah's cheeks. “Noah, what's wrong?” He looked up at Aidan. “What's wrong?”

“He's being childish,” Aidan grumbled. “And selfish. As usual. Go home, Noah, let your niece down.”

Noah was rooted to the spot. He'd never been there for his family, no matter how many times they'd been there for him. How many times Grace had been there for him. He didn't want to disappoint her again, but he didn't want to stay either. He couldn't move.

“It's ok to go home.” Morgan reached out to put an arm around Noah but he pulled away. “Noah…”

Noah slipped into the kitchen, stopping only to hug Grace and whisper ‘I'm sorry’ before heading out the back door. Sarah was watching after him worriedly, but he just glared at the floor and kept walking. After a minute Morgan caught up with him.

“Noah, what happened, what's wrong?” He asked desperately.

“It's nothing,” Noah murmured. “I don't want to talk. Can we just, just go home?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Morgan said.

Noah didn't lean against Morgan's shoulder on the journey home. Did he do that for the comforting warmth of another person? Or because Morgan was a good pillow? He didn't let Morgan hug him goodbye, after all he obviously only did that to make himself feel better, instead he just stood and sobbed while Morgan made him promise to call if he needed anything at all and worried about leaving him alone. Noah wouldn't call; that was selfish.

He cocooned himself in a blanket and buried under the duvet, too frightened and emotionally drained and afraid to even use the computers. He wanted to think, but didn't know what he was thinking about. Did he love Morgan? What the hell was love? Certainly he made him feel something, but what? Was he being selfish just by hanging out with him? He closed his eyes and tried to turn off his mind, but he was trapped in a painful turmoil.

After several hours of squirming around in the blankets and wanting to die Noah realised Morgan would probably be worrying about him, and that by staying here alone he wasn't being independent but hurting his friend. Donning a blanket as a makeshift cloak and trying his best to conceal the redness around his eyes, Noah shuffled over to Morgan's caravan.

When the door opened he braced himself for an enthusiastic hug, but none came. Instead Morgan was waiting in the doorway with a worried grimace on his face. Noah felt like the floor had dropped from beneath him; Morgan hated him already.

“Why aren't you hugging me?” He demanded, a little more aggressively than he'd meant to.

“Sorry.” Morgan pulled Noah against his chest and caressed his hair. “I just didn't think you were up for much human contact right now.”

“Well, I am.” He breathed in the sweet scent of Morgan's t-shirt and relaxed a little.

Morgan led Noah over to the couch and sat him down. “Do you want to tell me what Aidan said?”

“No,” Noah grumbled. “He said that I don't really love you and that I'll break up with you soon.” Tears threatened to spill from his eyes again. “It's not true.” He grabbed handfuls of Morgan's T-shirt and shook him. "It's not true!"

"Noah," Morgan murmured affectionately, "You're so silly." Confused, Noah suddenly stopped shaking him. "Are you upset because your brother doesn't think you love me?"

"Yes!" Noah wailed, not understanding how this was a trivial issue to Morgan.

"Well-" Morgan paused to tuck Noah's head against his chest and kiss his forehead, "If you're so worried about that, you obviously love me a lot."

"Uh?" Noah hadn't even stopped to consider than one emotion could cause another, especially not that something as sweet and heavy as love could cause something as hot and fleeting as rage.

"You don't need to worry," Morgan continued. "You're happy and you certainly make me very happy, that's a good relationship, right?"

"I, I, umm," Noah faltered. "I've never really had a relationship before. I don't know. But..." He smiled slightly, "I am very happy."

Morgan hugged him tightly. "Good. I think you should call Aidan though. You two always seem to have issues to sort out, but there's no use in adding another one to the pile." He pulled his phone out, which was obviously clad in a case depicting beach scenery and a motivational quote. "You can use my phone."

Begrudgingly, Noah called his brother's number and sauntered into the kitchen.

"Hey Morgan, how's Noah?" Aidan gushed the second he answered the phone.

"This is Noah, and he is fine," Noah said. "Look, I'm sorry for causing chaos on your holiday-"

"No, no, I'm sorry," Aidan apologised quickly. "It's just, it was the first Hanukkah without dad and I was thinking too much about family and I was stressed. I'm sorry, Noah. Only you know if you're happy or not, and Morgan's really good for you. He made you wash your hair, at least!"

"Hey!" Noah protested. "I did that of my own accord, thank you!"

"Well, that just means you're getting better."

They both paused. Noah watched Morgan set up Parks and Rec on the TV.

"Aidan," he said softly, "I love you guys and all, but Hanukkah really isn't my scene. Plus, Morgan didn't fly out to New England this year so he could spend Hanukkah with us. I think I kind of want to spend Christmas with his family next year. Is that alright?"

"As long as you're not saying you never want to come to Hanukkah again," Aidan grinned. "Maybe we can just have you round for some non-religious celebrations, ease the pressure a bit."

"That's alright." Noah absently wandered around the kitchen. "But wait a bit, I want to see what happens if I just eat reduced Christmas chocolate for a week."

"That's a terrible idea!" Aidan and Morgan yelled in unison.

"Don't worry, I'm not starting right now," Noah said calmly. "I'm absolutely stu- Hey Morgan, can I eat some of your marshmallows?"

For some reason they both started laughing and Noah frowned.

"Of course you can," Morgan called, smiling.

Noah crammed a couple of marshmallows into his mouth and mumbled something Aidan couldn't catch. "Well," he chuckled, "You sound like you're having a good time, I'll let you go. I'm sorry, Noah."

"It's alright it's... Ok. Hey and umm, tell Grace I'll come to her next school concert. And that I'm sorry. And, and that I love her."

"Will do. See you soon."

For once Noah waited until Aidan hung up.

Still clutching the marshmallows, Noah clambered over the back of the sofa and sat down beside Morgan. "If you're hungry I can make you some food later," he said, shifting over while Noah made himself comfortable.

"I'm not even a little bit hungry; I ate way too much. I just wanted the marshmallows." He leaned heavily against Morgan's shoulder. "Crying makes me tired. Then again, depression also makes me tired. Guess I'm gonna be tired either way."

Morgan kissed his curls and reached for the TV remote, then paused. "Do you really want to come with me to New England next year?" He asked softly.

"Oh, umm, sorry," Noah blushed. "I, I didn't even ask, I umm..."

"No, no, it's ok. But, do you really want to come?"

"Yeah, I guess. Yeah. You've met the best members of my family, I'd really like to meet yours. And I'm not really that Jewish, it's not like I'm missing out on Hanukkah." He grinned. "Plus, it's not about religion, it's about family."

"That's the holiday spirit," Morgan beamed with pride.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm done being sentimental now. Put the TV on." He nudged Morgan's arm slightly. "Oh and, umm, I love you."

"Aww, Noah," Morgan smiled, "I love you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays! Thanks for reading!


	7. Ethics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love ethics ok. Kinda rushed, I'm sorry.

__

The knocking on Morgan's door was furious and erratic. If it hadn't been Noah's custom to do everything as if under duress he might've been a little frightened, but as it was he was expecting Noah any minute for a date. They didn't go out often, since neither of them had much money and Noah didn't like putting effort into anything. Instead they did things around the headland: ice cream on the beach, watching the sun set, swimming in the moonlight. Morgan would be the first to admit he was an absolute sap of a boyfriend, he'd do anything to spoil Noah, and Noah just enjoyed anything he didn't have to shave for. But they had both agreed that sometimes they had to be a 'proper' couple and go on 'proper' dates to 'proper' restaurants. This was one of those times.

"Hi Noah," Morgan said brightly as he opened the door. Noah's face was crumpled into a frown, like it always was when he was mad, and he had his arms crossed defensively. And he most certainly did not look ready for a date at a fancy restaurant. "Your pyjamas are lovely but I don't think you're allowed to go to dinner in those." Morgan moved back to let Noah into his caravan but he remained in the steps, sulking. "Are you still mad that I made you get glasses?" Morgan ventured, pushing Noah's new 'hipster' (they're not hipster, ok? They're not. They just suit my face... shape... or whatever) glasses up his nose.

"No." Noah's bitter expression softened a little as he gazed intently at Morgan's face. "I like the glasses. I can... see better."

Morgan took advantage of Noah's lowered guard to invite him into the caravan again, which he did before realising his mistake and readopting his defensive stance. He mumbled something, chin pressed to his chest, then looked up to glare at Morgan. Most people would've been offended or felt victimised by Noah's behaviour but Morgan just laughed. He could tell by Noah's relaxed shoulders and serene eyes that he wasn't actually angry.

"What did you say?" He asked gently. Noah perched himself on the back of the couch as Morgan turned to tend to his banana bread in the oven. It had made the air taste sweet and warm, which Noah usually appreciated.

"It's your fault I'm fat," Noah snapped, pointing dramatically at Morgan.

He chuckled, circled the table to kiss Noah on the forehead, then returned to the kitchen for a cooling rack. "Ok," was all he said.

Noah's composure immediately broke. "That's not fair," he squirmed. "You're suppose to get mad. You're suppose to blame me!"

"For what?" Morgan began to slice the banana loaf while it was still warm and sticky, laying the slices on the cooling rack.

"Being fat!" Noah exclaimed in exaggeration.

"Well," Morgan made sure to keep his voice calm, "Usually you blame people for bad things, so I wouldn't exactly say blame. Weight's mostly to do with genetics and lifestyle. You're really sturdily built and you were a chubby kid, so I'd say you could put it mostly down to genetics. But you get a lot of muscle from swimming and you eat a lot of pasta."

Morgan laid the last slice of bread down then sat next to Noah, who was frowning and trying out sentence starters under his breath. Morgan beat him to it. "Are you ok, Noah?"

"No," Noah sighed, defeated. "It's your fault I'm fat!"

"You keep saying that but I don't get it," Morgan puzzled. He wondered if there was a translation issue, thought he rarely had any trouble understanding Noah. Thought he didn't agree with it, Morgan also didn't find the accusation at all irrational or malicious. To him it was the same as Noah saying, 'It's your fault my weight's healthy and I enjoy food.' Morgan didn't see anything wrong with that.

"It's just, just." Noah threw his hands up. "You're so kind, like, all the time and you never even joke about my weight-"

"I'd never-" Morgan started, but Noah shhed him. He wasn't done.

"So it's super easy to just forget that there's something wrong with me and then you're so sweet and complimentary I forget to do the whole 'I have a boyfriend now, I have to look good for him' thing because you make me forget that I apparently look bad and you make really good food and you actually remind me to eat if I forget and when I'm sick you don't make me exercise or anything and you actually count mental health issues as being sick which is wild because I've never met anyone else who does that before and yeah, basically it's your fault I'm fat."

"I umm," Morgan stuttered. "I don't see how any of those are bad things. There's nothing wrong with you, Noah-" Morgan paused as he was hit with all the strange things Noah had ever done. "Well actually, last week you ate a lemon and wheatgrass muffin covered in Nutella which you sprinkled with pork scratchings so there's definitely something wrong with you." Noah laughed. "But there's nothing wrong with the way you look. And I'm not going to argue that no one out there thinks you look bad, but I can tell you for certain there are a load of uneducated dicks out there. And also that you never have to worry about me thinking you look bad because even when you'd dragged yourself through that muddy stream and collected half the palm litter in your hair I still thought you looked cute." Morgan dropped his hand over the side of the couch, giving Noah the space to move closer if he wanted to. He did, tentatively, then rested his head on Morgan's shoulder. "It also doesn't matter what I think." He pressed his forehead against Noah's. "It matters what you think. And the last time I checked you thought you were pretty freaking awesome."

"I am pretty fucking awesome!" Noah exclaimed. Then he sighed and shrugged slightly. "But I care about you a lot, I want you to think I'm pretty fucking awesome too. And no matter how positive you are you can't persuade me gaining weight is pretty fucking awesome."

"You underestimate me," Morgan smiled, kissing Noah softly. "Not only do I have the world's greatest boyfriend, but he's even cuddlier and has even softer, sweeter facial expressions now. I love you, Noah, everything you do is awesome."

"That's so cheesy," Noah giggled. "Thanks, I love you too."

"And if you want to say it's my fault you're fat then I don't mind, because really all you're saying is that I love you and take care of you, and I'm not going to stop doing that."

"Well, I wouldn't use the word fault exactly..." Noah nuzzled his head under Morgan's chin. "I'm sorry being a little bitch, you're the best boyfriend."

Morgan laughed at Noah's strange American phrasing. "Don't worry. It's tough when most of society isn't on your side and people won't listen to science and the media refuses to give anything but a false, derogatory depiction of you, even going to the point where your very body type is considered comedic and people like you are denied the roles of typical heroes until eventually, forced by the pressure of superiors and the desire for fame they adhere to societal conventions and become one a miserable many-"

Morgan stopped abruptly. Noah was smiling, one eyebrow raised as he clung to Morgan's words with equal admiration and confusion. "You're funny, with your Kant and Peter Singer and Rebel Wilson."

"Rebel Wilson isn't an ethicist," Morgan chuckled. He could picture it though.

"I know, but she's kinda badass," Noah shrugged. "I like how into ethics you are, it's dorky."

"No it's not," Morgan blushed. "You know everything about everything, that's dorky!"

"Nah, that's just because my brain's fucked up, I don't get a say in the matter. You chose to be a nerd."

Morgan wanted to argue that he'd chose to be a nerd a million times over it meant learning about morals and autonomy and the intrinsic worth of everyone (especially his boyfriend) but he dropped it and kissed Noah on the cheek. "Why are you wearing pyjamas, then? I guess we're not going out."

"Oh, yeah." Noah sat up straight and examined his pyjamas: checkered pants and one of Morgan's old basketball shirts. "I was sulking because my fancy dress-shirts don't fit anymore." He shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't care, they're ugly anyway. You look pretty though, kind of like a pirate."

Morgan blinked.

"Pirates are hot," Noah clarified.

"Ah." Morgan ran his hands through his hair, pulling a hair tie from his wrist and securing it in a messy ponytail. "You know how the universe is vast and incomprehensible and our lives are mere tiny infinities in the strange scape we call time and when we die that's it?"

"Umm..." Noah was wide-eyed. "That doesn't make me feel better."

"No, no, of course, sorry." Morgan put an arm around him. "But... Doesn't it make you want to live?" There was something about crushing mortality that gave Morgan the urge to do something. Anything. It made him anxious and desperate but exhilarated at the same time.

"I, I guess," Noah smirked. "Why, whatcha thinking?"

"I'm thinking you wear your pyjamas to the fancy restaurant and see what happens when we try to get served," Morgan grinned. "But as soon as they tell us to leave we have to go because it's not good to be mean to wait staff."

"I know, I know." Noah stood up and looked Morgan up and down. "But I'm not going in my pyjamas while you look like someone out of an epic romance. Go put something dumb on!"

"Ok, ok." Morgan opened the cupboard above his bed. He had a few remnants of a pirate costume from a party he'd been invited to a few years ago. The party had been awful and anxiety inducing, but as far as Morgan remembered his costume was cute enough to impress Noah. "You always look like someone out of an epic romance," he said, strapping on an eyepatch and hanging a telescope over his shoulder. "This ok?"

"Oh fuck," Noah groaned. "You're so hot. You don't look anywhere near dumb enough but oh God you're so hot, don't take it off."

"A-alright," Morgan blushed. "Come on, we've got to go if we're going to not get a reservation!"

He placed a hand gently on Noah's back and walked towards the door. "Oh wait!" Noah ran round the table and grabbed a handful of banana bread. "If we're not going to get served then I'm bringing food."

"My food?" Morgan asked, putting an arm around him and kissing him on the cheek.

"No. You're my boyfriend, it's our food," Noah said happily.

"I'm ok with that," Morgan shrugged.

The air smelled of salt and warm sand. They walked along the headland, under the moon, above the sea. Noah's eyes reflected the stars and reminded Morgan how there was an entire universe inside Noah's head, and his own, and everyone else's. He was glad that Noah wanted to share a fraction of his universe with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :D


	8. Photo Albums

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had another one to post before this but it's on my iPad which has no internet. It's long and actually well edited, I'm sorry, I'll put it up when I have wifi again.

"Move or I'll fucking run you over!" Was not exactly what Noah was expecting to hear while he was relaxing on the headland. The weather was getting warmer again, well, returning from hot to will-actually-melt-your-skin-off, and he'd decided to spend some time doing something he absolutely abhorred: sunbathing. He wasn't sunbathing exactly, but rather 'relaxing outside', something Morgan had recommended for him. Apparently he was severely deficient in vitamin D (Noah had then made a dirty joke he wasn't particularly proud of, but it had gone over Morgan's head). Noah had actually found himself enjoying the 'relaxing outdoors'; it was warm, tranquil, and he could hear the faint creaking of Morgan's rowing machine. That was until this dick had pulled his car up.

The horn screeched, shattering Noah's peaceful atmosphere. "Move Noah! What if a car needs past?"

Noah opened his eyes and craned his neck to see Aidan's shitty silver car threatening to crush his skull. He wouldn't, obviously, so Noah took his time getting up.

"No-ah!" Aidan blasted his horn again, waking half the trailer park and probably half he dead. "I'm in a rush, get up!"

The second he had space to manoeuvre his car Aidan pulled up beside Noah's caravan and jumped out. He opened the boot, grabbed a box, and thrust it into Noah's arms. "Here, take this, by- Are you wearing swimming trunks?"

Noah looked down, but could only see the top of the box. "Well if I wasn't wearing trunks I'd be naked, so I'm going to go with 'yes'."

"Do you even own swimming trunks?" Aidan asked, all sense of urgency gone.

"Oh, no, these are Morgan's. That's why they look like gay pride threw up on them." Ordinarily Noah didn't wear anything brighter than a light grey, but he liked to borrow Morgan's clothes, which literally came in every colour of the rainbow.

"Ok, I've really got to go now." Aidan patted the box in Noah's arms. "I was going through some of dad's old stuff," he smiled wistfully, "And um, this is yours. Old photos and swim trophies and stuff. I know you're not sentimental like that but I thought maybe, I dunno, maybe you'd just like to know that he kept it."

"Oh." Noah's father had sent most of his stuff with him when he moved out, after their mum died. He thought anything he hadn't taken with him had been thrown out. "Thanks, Aidan."

"No problem." Aidan ruffled his hair and started for the car, then hesitated. "You don't really remind me of dad, more of mum, but you have this look in your eyes sometimes of absolute wisdom that just makes me think of him. I'll see you later, Noah." Then he took off as quickly as he'd arrived.

Noah looked at the sizeable box in his arms. It smelled like dad's old house, of musk candles and muesli. And it had his dad's writing scrawled across the top: Noah's stuff. He sat back down on the grass and started to open it.

"Hey Noah." For once Morgan was wearing even more clothes than him, shorts and a tank top, and his hair was messy from exercising all morning. He'd barely broken a sweat though. "I heard you... Talking loudly with your brother. Is everything ok?" He sat down opposite Noah.

"Yeah, he just wanted to give me this old stuff of my dad's. Wanna see?" Noah offered, unfolding the box flaps.

"I'd love to!" Morgan leaned in eagerly.

The first item on the top of the box was a photo album. Noah's dad had had loads lying about his house, but Noah didn't remember anyone taking many pictures of him as a child so hadn't assumed there was one just for him. "This is gonna be embarrassing," he muttered, turning the first page.

There was a picture of Noah with his mum, hours after he'd been born, eyes closed and face red. Morgan laughed and moved to sit beside Noah. "Aw, you're so tiny," he cooed. There was a picture of three-year-old Aidan stood over his incubator, face split into a huge grin at the prospect of being a big brother. Then a picture of Noah's dad, the tiny baby wrapped gently in his arms, smiling wider than anyone.

"They thought I was going to die," Noah explained. "Or be severely disabled. I don't know why I didn't, or why I'm not, but that's why everyone's so happy. Until I grew up, then I bet they wish I'd died the moment I took my first breath."

"That's silly, Noah," Morgan said softly. "Look how much your family loved you before they even knew you. You might've fought a lot, but nothing could've stopped these people loving you."

Noah rolled his eyes and turned the page. "Oh..."

"What is it?"

"I just, just expected these pictures to be of my mum." The next two pages were filled with pictures of Noah's dad, doing everything from feeding Noah to playing with alphabet blocks (at six months old Noah was, to his dismay, still struggling with the alphabet). "Not in a sexist way or anything, there was just never anything to imply my dad got that involved."

"Well, that's nice then, I guess," Morgan said. "You are so cute!" Noah was a smaller than average baby with a full head of curls by the time he was a few months old.

"Eh, just wait, I was actually the world's chubbiest toddler." Noah flipped past a few pages of Aidan trying to teach him how to catch and their mother holding both of them on her lap until he got to a page filled with pictures of a rosy-cheeked, bright-eyed, adventurous toddler. He was at an age where anything seemed appropriate to put in his mouth and every plug socket looked great to stick his fingers in.

"They were worried about me," Noah said. "Already. I didn't talk, wouldn't play peek-a-boo, I never learned to crawl and just got straight to walking. I did really stupid things you wouldn't expect a toddler to do, like climb out windows and try to hold my breath in the bath. I was just conducting experiments, but they didn't know that."

"I'm sure they just wanted to keep you safe," Morgan said, but he was distracted looking at the pictures. Noah was already a stocky kid, with broad enough shoulders to fit his brother's old clothes, but he was too short for the clothing that fit his shoulders. Everything wrinkled around his ankles and wrists.

"Whatever, let's look at some better pictures." Noah turned a few more pages. His first day at school. Some pictures taken during Hanukkah. Some 'friends' his parants had invited round for his seventh birthday. A very grumpy Noah who came second at sports' day.

"Why are all your pictures so photogenic?" Morgan asked. "Didn't you ever have braces or glasses or go through a phase where you only wore ugly sweaters?"

"Do I look like I had braces?" Noah responded by pressing his tongue against he gap in his teeth. "No, my dad tried and I just screamed at the orthodontist until she said she wouldn't do it. And I've not been to any kind of doctor since I was fourteen, optician included. Well, aside from when other people take me to hospital." He glared at Morgan.

Morgan looked horrified. "But you have to go to the doctor's sometimes. What if you're really sick and you just don't know it? What if you need glasses?"

Noah shrugged. He did have to squint to see things that were more than a few meters away. Even watching the computer screen from his bed presented a bit of a problem. But it had been like that for years now, if he was in dire need of glasses he'd do something about it. "I'll be fine, I'm not paying for a checkup or anything. And if I die then at least I don't need to pay."

He silenced Morgan's reply by turning a few more pages, until he started high school. Morgan gawked, grabbed the album, and held it up beside Noah's face. "That, that isn't..." He stopped, obviously not wanting to offend Noah.

"It is," Noah chuckled. "I had a mega growth spurt over the summer. If I'm honest I haven't grown since, but I was the tallest kid in ninth grade."

Noah was almost as tall as his brother, and almost as thin. He was still broad-shouldered, clearly built for muscle; he just didn't have any. He wore an expression of nonchalance that went well with his leather jacket and excessive hair gel.

He pointed to a picture of himself and several other half-naked teens. "That's my old swim team-"

"Cute!"

"- I fucked her, the night after this picture was taken, actually." Noah pointed to a girl he had his arm around. "Aaand-" He pointed to a tanned boy in the photo, "I accidentally broke him up with his boyfriend. That totally wasn't my fault though, he told me he was single."

"Mm, not so cute," Morgan murmured. He took in the pictures, Noah's tired eyes and forced smile. Then he looked at Noah, who was tipping his head back in the sunlight. "You look much better now than you did in high school."

"Hmm?"

"You're always saying how attractive I'd find your high school photos. I always disagreed, but I'd never seen them. I still disagree now. You look so sad and tired. You're still tired, I guess, but it's a happy I-stayed-up-all-night-watching-friends kind of tired. You suit the extra weight and muscle and fuzzy hair." He kissed the top of Noah's head.

Noah blushed and shoved Morgan gently. "Dude, shut up," he mumbled. "Thank you." Reaching into the box Noah removed an old, cheap silver trophy, embossed with his name and the high school he'd attended. "This was from, I dunno, some swim match or other. I was, obviously, the best on the team. Always won my sets." He proudly handed Morgan the trophy.

"This is really cool, Noah!" Morgan grinned. "No wonder you're such a good swimmer! To think, I've been swimming with a champion all this time!"

Noah's cheeks flushed even brighter red, but he took the praise. He had been a good swimmer. He was a good swimmer. As long as he got things his way he'd always be a good swimmer. There was something about being able to survive in an environment he was never meant to inhabit that enticed Noah. Richard Dawkins said the world wasn't made for us because we could only inhabit 25% of it; well, Noah figured if he could inhabit 100% of it the world was clearly made for him.

Leaving Morgan with the rest of the photo album, Noah dived into the box to see what else his dad had kept. There was a teddy bear he'd been particularly fond of as a child, dressed as Theodore Roosevelt. Several amateur attempts at design tech: a clock that ticked anti-clockwise, a high heel strapped to a tennis racket (just to see if their combined surface area would balance out, thus making it feel like a normal shoe), and of course, the macaroni picture frame. Which kindergartener hadn't blessed their parents with such a useless gift? Noah was still surprised to see it, though.

"Oh my God!"

"What is it?" Morgan carefully put the album to one side to see what Noah had found.

"It's the first Halloween costume I ever asked mum to make for me." He held up an extravagant suit, patterned waistcoat and high collared shirt, complete with some sort of velvet turban.

"I don't understand. You were some sort of Sikh leader?"

"No," Noah laughed. "Though the turban is misleading. I was David Hume, Scottish philosopher. My dad was furious."

"Because Hume was so anti-religion? Or because he wasn't even criticising Judaism?" Morgan smiled proudly, just for a second, but Noah caught it. Morgan liked to know what Noah was on about when he talked about 'smart people stuff.'

"Both, I guess. And he was really angry when people thought I was a Sikh, but it was a fashion of the time. I guess he didn't understand why I didn't just want to be Jewish."

"But you did want to look an atheist who looked like a Sikh," Morgan smiled. "He kept the costume, Noah. Maybe he wasn't proud of your costume choice, but surely he was proud of your knowledge. How old were you? The costume doesn't look that big."

"I was four," Noah said, measuring the tiny suit against his arm. "I suppose that's a bit impressive."

"That's very impressive." Morgan kissed his cheek. "What else have you got? This is very interesting, I love learning about your childhood."

"It's embarrassing. Let me see." Noah rummaged past some old playing cards and framed pictures until he found another pile of fabric. "Oh my God!" He was vaguely aware that his eyes were starting to tear up. He'd been nothing but rude and selfish, feeling like he dad was being the same, when really he'd cared the whole time. Of course, he'd still treated Noah poorly, he didn't know that he'd do anything differently if he had a second chance, but it hurt to know that someone who had loved him so much could never hear how much he appreciated that love.

"This is the first costume I ever made myself." He clutched it to his chest for a moment. It wasn't that he didn't want to show Morgan, he just wasn't sure if he was ready to see it himself. He thrust it into Morgan's hands. "I know I was a real chubby ten year old, but I had confidence to envy those Kardashian kids."

Morgan unfolded the white and blue sailor's costume. "Popeye the sailor man! My father used to read this to me to help me learn English!" He examined the perfect stitching. "You made this when you were ten? It's incredible!"

"I just did the appliqué and the neckerchief and whatever," Noah shrugged. "I guess it was alright, for a first costume."

"It's incredible!" Morgan beamed. "And your dad thought so, too. He kept it."

To hide his tears Noah turned back to the box, quickly wiping his face. There were a few more pieces of childhood memorabilia, a couple of smaller photo albums, some of Noah's baby clothes, but nothing that tugged on Noah's heart strings like the costume. At the very bottom of the box was a letter, adresses to him in his dad's handwriting.

"Hey, look at this." He held it up to the light. There was a letter inside.

"A letter from your dad," Morgan said.

"Yeah, but a letter he obviously never sent me. He still had it when he died." Noah turned the envelope over in his hands then began to open it. What if it was so hateful and malevolent his dad had decided to never send it? What if it was just the first draft of something he'd already sent? How important could it be, if he still had it? He had kept it a long time. "You read it." He dropped it into Morgan's lap. Anything cruel and scathing his father had to say would sound much gentler and sweeter coming from Morgan.

"O-ok." Morgan slipped the letter out. "My dearest son, it was with deepest regret and hurt that I forced you out of my house last month. I know we've never been on the best of terms, so maybe you think I did it to avoid conflict or out of spite. I wanted to tell you that neither of those were the case. There are two reasons why I sent you away.

"The first is that I want you to be independent. You're strong-willed, intelligent, caring; but you need to learn to be all those things on your own. I've focused too much on teaching you boys things you can learn in a classroom, when really I should have been teaching you how to live. Pay a bill. Go to a club. Do something with that sewing talent you've got. Intelligence is useful but it only gets you so far; I want you to learn how to be smart."

Noah didn't know whether to laugh or cry. There was some strong emotion bubbling in his chest, waiting to explode, but he didn't know what. He covered his mouth to try and keep it inside.

"The second reason," Morgan continued, his accent making Noah's dad's words seem kind and familiar, "Is that you remind me too much of your mother. You've got her deep eyes, her thoughtful expression, you've picked up all the inflections of her voice. I can't look at you without a painful reminder of how much I love her. That's unfair, I shouldn't take it out on you, I love you too, but I can't help it. It hurts to have lost her, but it hurts even more to feel like she's still here and know she isn't.

"I hope we can work things out some time, Noah. That means the both of us. I know how hard you find it to connect with people, I just thought that after twenty four years you might've connected with me. I'm sorry. I love you. Dad."

Noah sighed softly and realised he was out of breath; he'd been holding it for half the letter. He wiped his eyes, but they weren't wet, and he realised that really he wasn't sad at all. He was content. Content knowing that his dad had loved him, that he had told him, he'd just never got the message. He was comforted by the thought that he reminded someone of his mum and that he'd received a message from his dad even after he was dead. However when Morgan opened his arms to offer him a hug Noah still clung on tightly.

"That was good to hear. Thank you," he whispered.

"Don't worry. I'm glad you got that note," Morgan replied.

Noah felt inappropriate, hugging his boyfriend in the middle of the trailer park with very few clothes on, so he sat back and put everything back in the box. He'd probably return to it later, when he was feeling slightly worse than he did right now. Right now he was ready to go back to relaxing.

"Have any ice cream?" He asked Morgan, plucking his sunglasses from his head and placing them on his own face.

"Huh?"

"Ice cream. With sugar. And by 'with sugar' I really mean 'with flavour'. None of that sorbet bullshit."

"Are you ok?" Morgan asked, feeling dumbly for the glasses he could clearly see on Noah's eyes.

"Yeah, I feel alright," Noah reassured him. "Where do we stand on that ice cream?"

"It's just, a few weeks ago that would've caused you a major emotional breakdown, no offence. Are you sure you're not just bottling your emotions up?"

Noah paused, holding perfectly still, and tried to identify any bottled up feelings inside of him. He felt relief, happiness, content. "No, I think I feel pretty good," he smiled.

"Excellant!" Morgan dove on him and wrapped him in a tight hug. "That means you're having a good day then." He kissed him. "And I have some chocolate fudge ice cream in the freezer."

"You're the best! I love you," Noah exclaimed.

"Because of the chocolate fudge ice cream?" Morgan smirked. Noah was already rooting through his freezer.

"No, for a lot of other reasons." Noah located the ice cream and scooped himself a large bowl, then found some mango sorbet for Morgan. "But also for the chocolate fudge."

He sat back down on the headland, placing a bowl in Morgan's lap. "Why don't you tell me more about your family? Since you've just seen all my embarrassing baby photos."

"Oh, they're not that interesting," Morgan said.

"No, come on, I want to hear. I met Indigo and she's amazing." He took a large spoonful of ice cream. "This is amazing, by the way."

"Thank you." Morgan leaned against his shoulder. "And if you really want to know about my family then I guess you can come and see them. I go out there for Easter sometimes. Wanna come?"

"Seriously?" As much as Noah hated when his own family was dysfunctional he loved to watch other people argue. It was like a free, never before seen, episode of Real Housewives. Which Noah definitely did not watch. Plus, he wanted to see where Morgan came from, and what kind of people raised the world's sweetest kid.

"Yeah, seriously, I'd love you to come," Morgan smiled.

"Should I bring the popcorn?" Noah asked with a sly grin.

"I object to you seeing my family's issues as a reality TV drama," Morgan scolded playfully. "But yes, definitely bring the popcorn!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :)


	9. Valentine's Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should be working on some other stuff but *slaps y'all with body positivity* have this instead

Morgan tangled his finger's in the bottom of Noah's T-shirt, leaning in to kiss him languidly as he did so. Noah tasted of chocolate and smelled sweet, like the daisies woven into his hair. God forbid if Aidan saw him now. Morgan tugged teasingly at his T-shirt, then leaned back and whispered, "Am I doing it right?"

"What?"

"This sexy undressing thing, is this how you do it?"

"Well, it was. Until you asked how to do it," Noah laughed. Morgan looked disheartened. "It's not like we're going to have sex, anyway. You're just being intimate, I kind of like it."

"So will you show me how to sexily take off your shirt?" Morgan grinned eagerly.

"I currently look utterly unsexy, so no. But I can take yours off. If, if you like, or whatever." Noah reddened, fingers already inching towards the hem of Morgan shirt. It wasn't like it was a rare occasion for Morgan to take his shirt off. He slept shirtless and swam shirtless and, if Noah was lucky, exercised shirtless. But just as Morgan enjoyed expressing his love for Noah's soft sides and plump cheeks Noah was captivated by his muscle-bound boyfriend.

"You can take my shirt off," Morgan smiled.

Noah slipped his fingers beneath the light cotton, running his hands up Morgan's sides and dragging the material with him. He wasn't entirely graceful getting it over Morgan's ponytail, but as he slid the shirt down Morgan's forearms he kissed him softly. "There!"

"That was nice," Morgan said cheerily. The motion had left Noah shivery with a racing heart, not sunny and chipper, and he wondered what it was like to only feel romance. Morgan was always happy, so it must be pretty fulfilling. "Can I try?"

"Shoot," Noah said.

Morgan fumbled with Noah's T-shirt for a while before getting a grip then awkwardly positioned his hands on his sides. "Is this alright?"

"Mm," Noah hummed. He liked Morgan's idea of intimacy. It was always so slow and gentle and caring. He'd thought it a little uncomfortable to begin with, sex had never constituted so much looking at each other, but Morgan only ever had good things to say about him. Plus it meant Noah could do all the staring he wanted at Morgan's perfect body.

Morgan slipped the T-shirt over Noah's head then kissed him on the cheek. "Hey! This is my shirt."

"Yeah, I stole that," Noah said absently, watching Morgan's chiselled jaw as he spoke. Any time he didn't want to wash the mountains of clothes on his floor (all the time) he just let himself into Morgan's caravan and took one of his shirts. He was also quite partial to Morgan's running pants, which were soft and stretchy like leggings and easily adapted to Noah's wide thighs. Morgan was going to regret giving him a key.

"I don't mind." Or maybe not. Morgan seemed to think everything Noah did was endearing. It was a great talent, in Noah's opinion. He ran a thumb across the freckles on Noah's cheek. "Happy actual Valentine's Day."

"Happy actual Valentine's Day." Yesterday the pair had gone out to dinner, to avoid the rabid Valentine's Day rush, but today they'd exchanged cheesy, stereotypical gifts and lounged around on the headland. Morgan had a bouquet of flowers on his kitchen table that resembled the sunset and Noah had spent the entire afternoon (he'd only got up at two) eating chocolates. Then he'd plucked flowers from the headland to put in his hair and Morgan had laughed and taken pictures. Now they planned to watch every Valentine's Day episode of Parks and Rec, but only after Morgan got to shower Noah with attention, something he did every day anyway.

"God Noah, you're pretty," Morgan sighed. "You're so pretty, I actually can't believe it. People pay to look this pretty. Instagram models aren't this pretty. You're stunning." Noah had never seen the appeal of Instagram but Morgan loved updating his daily with pictures of the sea or motivational quotes or, with permission of course, pictures of Noah. He pretended to find it embarrassing but really he loved picking filters and seeing how many strangers thought he was hot. They followed Morgan though; they had to be nice.

"Ah, yeah," Noah sighed, "that's why I'm the romantic lead in every love movie you see, while people like you, who are perfect specimens of humanity, are always the comedy value." He paused to give a cocky smile. "No wait; it's the other way around."

"Is that something you're worried about?" Morgan asked gently. Noah grabbed at every opportunity available to be sarcastic but Morgan still checked every time to make sure he wasn't actually upset.

"I dunno," Noah shrugged. He took Morgan's hands and placed them back on his sides. It was quite comforting. "It's just, I thought we were getting somewhere for a bit with Ghostbusters and This Is Us and stuff, but now it seems we're not even good enough for comedic characters. It's kind of shitty to have your body type thought of as comedic, but it's even shittier when nobody wants you in media at all."

"I didn't know you thought about this kind of stuff." Morgan pulled him closer and kissed his forehead.

"Is it kind of shallow?" Noah asked nervously.

"No, no, not at all-"

"I mean, my brother's an actor and I work with actors every day and I've never once sewn a costume that I would've fitted." He paused and dropped his gaze to the bed. It was difficult to manufacture costumes when he couldn't just wrap the fabric around his waist to see how much he needed. Maybe someone would need a 'fat guy' costume one day. He'd have the perfect model for that. "No, this is stupid."

"It's not," Morgan insisted. "It's a very important issue, actually. Media helps spread messages and we don't want to spread the message that it's not ok to be fat." He ran a hand gently down Noah's side. "It's perfectly ok. And you're a lot more than just comedy value."

"I know that, I'm a freaking genius," Noah said. "But I look like I'm just comedy value and it pisses me off." Not that he wanted to look like a genius. He was perfectly content with how he looked, just not how other people viewed him.

"You don't look like comedy value," Morgan reassured him. "There's so much more to your body than that. There's all the complex biology and adaptations it takes just for you to see or turn your head or take a breath. Your hair's pretty and soft and, well, and Jewish. Your eyes are captivating, gentle and earthy and warm. I like how softly your shoulders curve and how strong your arms are and how delicately your fingers can work on your projects. Your calves look like they belong to a professional athlete but your thighs are all cute and squishy when you sit down. I like that. And don't even get me started on how cuddly a soft tummy is, or how attractive you look in my clothes, and how sweet your sleepy face is. It's super cool that you're chubby, you look really good, but I like everything about you, Noah. I like that you're funny, too, but that's a completely separate thing." He rested his forehead against Noah's. "Don't let other people tell you what you are. You're whatever you want to be." He paused. "And I'm going to shut up now because I'm just a huge, huge dork."

"No," Noah smiled. "No, I liked that. Thanks, Morgan. You know, you can tell me how attractive I am whenever you feel like it."

"I'd need more than twenty four hours in a day for that," Morgan said.

"Dude!" Noah blushed madly and hid his face in Morgan's shoulder. "That is the sweetest shit, stop!"

"I love you," Morgan murmured, kissing his shoulder. "Ready to watch TV?"

"What about you?" Noah asked, sitting up sharply.

"I'm going to watch TV too..."

"No, I know that. But what about you? You're an immigrant from Africa, from Egypt, whose first language isn't English, with dark skin and long hair, and you're gay and you're asexual, and you're an interfaith atheist, and you live on the west coast in a caravan. When do you ever see yourself in media?"

"I don't," Morgan said breezily. "It doesn't bother me personally at all. I only ever watch TV with you, apart from when I'm watching documentaries, and why would I need to be sad then? I have a real life love story, what's on TV doesn't matter. It bothers me on behalf of all the gay, Egyptian, interfaith kids growing up without that representation to tell them it's ok to be themselves, but that's why we have independent films, that's what young filmmakers and writers and producers are working towards. Also not to ruin the mood but people are literally killing us, here and in Egypt, media isn't our biggest worry right now."

"Oh, yeah, sorry, I didn't mean to, umm, I'm sorry," Noah stuttered.

"It's alright, it's not your fault, it's ok. You're just being sweet, don't be sorry. The people who want to help are already doing the best they can, and even better than that they're influencing people who didn't even know they wanted to help. Things are changing slowly and although I wish they'd change faster I know some things just have to be gradual. You shouldn't have to feel bad about that either." He kissed a slightly spacey Noah on the cheek. "We can do some political blogging later, if you like."

"I'm already planning my paragraph topics," Noah said. "Do you have any tortilla chips?"

"Is that one of your topics?" Morgan smiled. He reached for his T-shirt but Noah grabbed it first and put it on. Morgan sighed and put on the shirt Noah had been wearing earlier.

"This one smells of your aftershave more," Noah explained. It had an Arabic quote embroidered over galaxy print. Noah thought it must have done from an Egyptian version of Hot Topic. Or maybe just regular Hot Topic. If it hadn't been Morgan's he wouldn't thought it was vile. "And the tortilla chips are to help me think of paragraph ideas."

"I made some vegetarian chilli yesterday, you can have some chips with that." Noah pulled a face. "It has quorn in it, it tastes just like beef chilli."

"Oh, that's alright then." Noah got up and wandered into the kitchen, which was only a few steps away, then jumped up to sit on the counter.

"You're going to sit there until I heat it up for you, aren't you?" Morgan asked, standing between Noah's knees and touching their noses together.

"Thank you." Noah's smiled was sickly sweet. Morgan took the chilli from the fridge and scooped some into two bowls. "Hey Morgan, what kind of character would I be in a film?" Noah asked.

"Oh! I like this question!" Morgan exclaimed. He covered the chilli and put it in the microwave. "You can be a real Californian Pretty Boy sometimes, but most of the time you're sort of ruggedly handsome. I'm thinking... Space action movie. You're the lead guy. Fluffy hair and shiny lip balm and stuff. You get to have one of those cheap, Hollywood romances with a pretty lady. Oh! And you get to have a badass fight with an alien!"

"I like that," Noah grinned. "Let's do you! Ok, umm, sci-fi, dystopia, pirate comedy with an everything's-made-of-chrome aesthetic and you're a saber-wielding, smooth-talking semi-robotic pirate with a strong moral compass who's out to save the universe." He beamed proudly at his handiwork then gasped, "And you always have cookies in your pocket."

Morgan positioned himself back between Noah's knees and softly kissed his neck. "Remind me to never let you make a movie," he chuckled. "What're the cookies for?"

"Your chubby space boyfriend who rejects his Hollywood romance to follow you around the galaxy. And for you, when you get hungry."

"I like that." Morgan placed his hands on Noah's thighs and kissed the top of his stomach.

"And I like that," Noah giggled. "Kinda tickles."

Morgan kissed him once more, on the cheek, then took the chilli from the microwave and passed Noah the bag of chips. "Noah, you're my absolute favourite person in the whole world. I've never been this happy in my entire life, not before I had depression, never. I love you so much."

"Mm." Noah squirmed. "Stop, you're going to make me cry! I've cried way too much since we got together." He still wasn't fond of it. Even happy-crying hurt, thought it was a good kind of hurt. 'Heavenly Hurt' as Emily Dickinson put it. Ew. He had to stop reading Morgan's poetry books.

"That's ok, I think that's cute too."

"Well, I think you're the greatest person to have ever been born. You're so sweet and kind and optimistic. I'm really lucky to have such an amazing guy in my life." Noah had previously been fond of the concept that he was incredibly unlucky not to be the only human being left on Earth; then he wouldn't have to deal with anyone else. Now he'd learned to be grateful for his brother and his boyfriend and his niece and nephew and his sort-of-maybe friends at work. Morgan liked to give Noah all the credit for that but he knew he couldn't have done it without him.

Morgan pursed his lips and wiped his eyes quickly. "Shh, stop being so cute. Now I'm crying!"

Noah grinned. "Yes! I made you cry!"

"If I didn't know you so well that would be mean," Morgan smirked. He was always making Noah cry with his sentiment and soft words and sometimes even just a text message. Noah was determined to get revenge. "Eat some chilli so you can help me battle the aliens."

"You're right, I come up with horrible movie plots." Noah picked up his bowl and slipped off the counter. "You'd make a sexy space-robot-pirate though."

"And you make a fabulous protestor for minority rights. Can I read your essay later?" Morgan asked. He was the only person Noah actually knew who was allowed to read his blog. It had been his idea, after all.

"Of course. You can write my paragraph on fatphobia though, because I always chicken out when I remember how much I suck." He sat down on the couch and smiled hopefully up at Morgan. Noah loved fighting for other people's rights. He loved supporting them and telling other people they were wrong when they didn't support them and sourcing his arguments and gathering evidence and intimidating others into admitting they were wrong. But he didn't like fighting for his own rights; didn't think he deserved it. He could more-or-less manage essays on antisemitism, if wasn't like he was a practising Jew, but he was a practising fat person and he wasn't capable of standing up for himself. His brain's first response to 'fat people are disgusting' was 'damn, you're right!' Thankfully Morgan's first response was 'you're the disgusting one, you absolute cretin, because biologically speaking...'

"Don't worry, I will," Morgan said. "Everyone deserves to know that they're loved and worthwhile. I like telling people that."

"I know." Noah smiled and glanced sideways at Morgan. He was happily oblivious to the fact that his words, his attitudes, the way he went about his job, improved people's lives everyday. To the fact that without him Noah probably would've done something stupid a long time ago, and instead of enjoying quorn chilli on the couch, watching Parks and Rec with his boyfriend, he probably would've been six feet under in a graveyard dedicated to people whose religion he didn't follow. "I'm glad."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was a bit rushed, sorry. Thanks for reading!


	10. Personal Trainer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was suppose to come several stories ago but I had no wifi so I couldn't upload it in chronological order. But here it is now, actually edited for once and a few thousand words longer than it was on tumblr. If anything sounds odd it's cause this was suppose to be way earlier in the time line, sorry!
> 
> Warning for:  
> -insecurity  
> -depression

A sharp, bitter feeling clawed at the back of Noah's throat. He was afraid to release a breath, to allow the feeling to crawl up into his mouth and escape. Instead he took shallow, shuddering breaths that rattled as they brushed past the feeling and squeezed into his overstuffed lungs. He pursed his lips, sealing them tight shut with his teeth until steely blood filled his mouth. Swallowing was no longer an option, but he refused to open his mouth.

Noah's eyes began to pound. They felt hot and sticky in his head, and when he blinked he could feel a watery glaze enveloping them. He continued to stare down at the beach, but that only made the torturous sensations worse. He didn't know what was wrong. He wondered if he was dying.

After rising uncharacteristically early that morning (eleven thirty) Noah had found the beach teeming with people taking exercise classes. His first thought was that this would make Morgan incredibly pleased. His second thought was to hurl himself off the cliff and find solace in the jolting snap of his neck. These people were healthy, energetic, involved. He felt disgusting. He felt wrong.

Noah had never really bother about his appearance. He wasn't vapid or shallow, and he knew the majority of his features were striking enough to make him attractive. He'd never assume he was suppose to be anything but fat, since days of not eating had no affect on his weight but he could easily gain a couple of pounds a week over winter. Usually he didn't care.

But now, watching swarms of well-toned bodies striving to keep up with their healthy lifestyles, he felt awful. Lazy. Useless. His stomached urged him to throw up the pizza he'd eaten for breakfast as his brain replayed the sickening image of cheese bubbling in the microwave. He clung to the table, distancing himself from the cliff’s edge.

“Noah!” He relaxed his grip. He didn't need it anymore. “You're up so early!” Morgan kissed his hair and leaned over his shoulder. “What's going on?”

“Convention of exercise nuts,” Noah said, tilting his head back to try and get Morgan to kiss him.

“Mm?” He obliged, kissing him softly. “Oh! Aerobics instructors! With their…” He paused. “What do you call those floats in California? Water spaghetti?”

“What?” Noah giggled. “Pool noodles.”

“Yes!” Morgan beamed. “That's it! Pool noodles.” He nodded thoughtfully as if Noah had just shared a philosophical theorem with him. Noah had never seen Morgan forget an English word before. It was surprisingly endearing.

“How was your morning?”

“Aww, thank you for asking!” Morgan wrapped his arms around Noah's shoulders and rested his chin on his head. “I've had an amazing morning. My client is getting so much better at managing her anxiety, I'm so proud of her. How has your morning been?”

Noah opened his mouth, ready to tell Morgan all about how his throat felt like barbed wire and his brains had a desperation to spill themselves on the rocks, but suddenly he felt silly. Morgan was always so understanding and loving, surely Noah should be over his insecurities by now? It would be selfish to burden him with anything new. Still, he had to do something to soothe the burning in his mind.

“Do you think maybe…” He glanced down at the beach, retreating further against Morgan's chest. “Could you pretend to be my personal trainer for a bit?”

“Of course, as long as you tell me exactly what you want to do. I don't want to make you uncomfortable.”

Noah didn't want to tell him that his gentle touch on his stomach made him want to slice his torso up until he was nothing but unrelenting, exposed muscle. He felt twitchy and awkward, but that wasn't Morgan's fault, he just wasn't in the mood for any positive attention. “I just wanna… Go hardcore. Strenuous exercise. I want to feel worthwhile.”

“Noah,” Morgan wrapped both his arms around Noah's waist, his touch so sweet and gentle it couldn't possibly make Noah feel disgusting, “You don't have to exercise to be worthwhile! You're a wonderful, intelligent person in your own right and absolutely nothing can change that.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Noah mumbled, his mind preoccupied. “I'm just in the mood for something more challenging than swimming.”

"Like what?" Morgan's words tickled the back of Noah's neck, just as it did when Morgan wrapped his arms around him to fall asleep. That's what Noah really wanted to do: sleep. Sleep with Morgan curled around his back, kissing his neck, whispering that he loved him. But that was lazy. Noah had spent most of his life lounging in bed, he knew if he did that the feeling would crawl back into his throat, trying to suffocate him.

"I dunno, something you do with clients or, or something." He glanced around Morgan's yard, bursting with old exercise equipment. It was daunting, but unusually appealing.

"Well, first of all I assess their mental health, to know what they're capable of and what they should be working towards." Morgan placed his fingers under Noah's chin, turning his head to face him. For a moment he inspected his eyes, and Noah found himself captivated by the flecks of gold in Morgan's, then he leaned in and kissed him on the nose. Noah giggled and leaned back. "Yours is much, much better. Your new medication is wonderful, you're so much more confident and motivated. But..." He pulled Noah protectively against his chest. "But I want you to use that motivation for the right things, like eating and taking a shower. It's not for jumping off cliffs, ok?"

Noah glanced behind him, overcome by the allure of a rocky death. The thought made him uncomfortable, so he nuzzled himself back against Morgan's chest. "I know. I had a shower today. And ate... Something. It wasn't a good something." The urge to throw up was gradually returning.

"That doesn't matter. What's important is that you remembered to eat, and now you have plenty of energy to help you exercise!" Noah pictured cheap American cheddar oozing with oil, a soggy pizza base, misshapen slices of pepperoni melting into the dough. There was no way he'd gained anything but weight from that.

"Whatever. Just torture me or something," he sighed.

"Don't be silly, I wouldn't do that." Morgan began to walk him over to his exercise yard. "I'll start you off with something slow and gentle while I do a write up." He stopped in front of an exercise bike and Noah was grateful; it was the only piece of equipment he recognised. It looked old, diminished, all of Morgan's equipment was second hand, and Noah began to worry if he'd break it. It had only ever had to deal with Morgan's weight before, and he was practically a bean pole.

"I'll leave it with a medium resistance," Morgan informed him, "So that you can't tire yourself out but it won't hurt your thighs too much either. This is just a warm up. Do around ten minutes, then stop for a break or come and get me. I have to go and write some notes."

Noah swung his leg awkwardly over the bike, then fidgeted on the seat. Whoever designed it clearly had no idea about human anatomy. It creaked a little under his weight (due to the rust. And the fidgeting. But Noah disregarded that) and he winced. The burning sensation was returning to his throat.

"Are you ok?" Morgan asked. Noah nodded, determined. "Alright. Please call me if you need me." He disappeared into the solace of his caravan.

Noah wanted to say something in response, to get Morgan to stay and talk to him longer, but he let him go. He felt uncomfortably warm under the pressing sun and the sooner he started to burn calories the more peaceful his mind would be.

At first the pedals struggled to rumble round as Noah tried to get their momentum up. His thighs began to burn immediately; his calves were strong and toned from years of swimming but he tended to use his thighs for sitting on the sofa. Or at the computer. Or on his bed. Generally just a lot of sitting.

Often Noah found both the starting and the completing of tasks monumentally difficult, but once he'd gathered the energy to begin something he didn't tend to quit. He could hyper-focus on something for weeks, months, years, only stopping right before completion. Fear of falling at the last hurdle, he supposed. So even thought Noah's eyes burned and his lungs tightened and his thighs ached he didn't stop.

Is wasn't unusual for long periods of time to pass without Noah's realising it, but he felt every agonising second on that exercise bike. Even when nausea began to rise in his throat he brushed the sensation away, closing his eyes and turning his mind to other things.

Ten minutes passed. Noah pressed on.

It took Morgan physically lifting Noah off the bike to bring him back to his senses. His legs were numb. Unsteady. He felt sick and shivery. Morgan shook him lightly. "Noah, I feel awful, I was so engrossed in my notes, you should've just stopped I'm so sorry, are you ok?" His cool hands sizzled against Noah's arms.

“I’m, I’m, I’m-“ Noah found he couldn't get his words out. He panicked, his brain thrown off by a moment of delirium, and instead leaned against Morgan's chest. Blood was pounding past his ears and his heart thumped in his rib cage, yet he felt refreshed, accomplished. As he pressed his forehead against Morgan's collar bone, sweat dripping down his neck, his lips couldn't help but curl into a small smirk.

“Hmm.” Morgan thoughtfully coiled Noah's damp hair through his fingers. “You look quite pale and shaky. I'll get you some sugar, just in case." This usually meant some sweet, exotic fruit or a spoonful of some kind of syrup. Both seemed scientific enough not to send Noah's mind into turmoil. "Some proper sugar though, not any of that fructose nonsense." Noah's eyes widened. Suddenly sugar had switched from something scientific to something disgusting, indulgent, fattening.

He stepped away from Morgan. “No, I'm fine.” Noah's lungs clenched as he struggled to get the whole sentence out without sounding short of breath.

“Well, as your impermanent personal trainer I always have to do what's best for your health," Morgan said. "It was irresponsible to leave you with equipment you were unfamiliar with for so long, I'm really sorry. Come on," he gently poked Noah's cheek, "I have some marshmallows inside.”

Noah thought maybe he should be offended by that, but couldn't muster the energy. Some calm, reserved part of his brain quite liked the idea of having marshmallow-y cheeks; soft, sweet, pliant. He smiled, making his cheeks plump and round.

The inside of Morgan's caravan always made Noah feel calmer. It smelled of warm spices and the air tasted like cinnamon and, unlike the offensive, contrasting colours bundled inside Noah's caravan, had a neutral colour scheme he'd probably stolen from a magazine.

“Here.” Morgan presented him with a handful of fat, white marshmallow. Actually looking at them made them less appealing. They looked too full and rounded and Noah had the urge to crush them in his fist. They were so yielding and delicate, it would be so easy...

“Noah?” Morgan's tone was soft, worried. He tilted his head and tried to catch Noah's eye. "Are you sure you're feeling ok? You haven't taken the marshmallows."

"What?" Noah snapped.

"Here." Morgan simply held his hand out again.

"Why do you think I'm not ok just because I'm not eating shit? That's, urgh!" He looked down at the floor, too embarrassed to even glance in Morgan's direction. "That's, I'm so disgusting, God!"

"Well," Morgan started gently, "Eating food is a healthy thing to do. If you can't eat you get really sick, and if you don't eat you're probably really sick already. You don't have to eat the marshmallows to be ok, you just have to eat something at some point." He reached to put a hand on Noah's shoulder but shyly retracted it before it could make contact. Noah felt like a monster.

"I'm sorry for yelling," he whispered. "I just feel bad. It's not your fault."

"That's alright, I understand." He rested his finger tips on Noah's forearm. "Would you like to tell me why you feel bad?" His eyes were filled with concern as he stared intently at Noah.

He drew in a deep breath. A breath was all it took to make his lungs shudder. “No, no, I'm fine.” He watched the muscles in Morgan's arm ripple as it brushed past his cheek, tucking his hair behind his ear. It made him feel sea sick, like his whole body was rocking from side to side. He closed his eyes, but it was his mind that was rocking.

“Can we go running later?” Noah asked. Running with Morgan usually constituted a walk along the beach and a speech on all his accomplishments. The first time Morgan had invited Noah to come running with him they'd started off at a gentle jog and ended up eating ice cream on the beach and talking about Dawkins' philosophical stance on religion. Since then their meaning of 'running' had evolved. Noah wasn't in the mood for gentle exercise disguised as fun; he wanted his body to feel alight with pain until it clouded over the fire in his mind.

“I really think you could do with a chill day today, if you ask my opinion,” Morgan responded. Nearly every day of Noah's life was a ‘chill day’. When he wasn't working he spent his time lounging on the bed or hunched over the computer or cuddled up on the couch with Morgan. His life had no urgency or drive; he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt motivation like today. It was painful. He wanted to go back to enjoying being chubby, but his brain had placed a firm block along that road.

"Shouldn't you be encouraging me to exercise?" He looked down at his hands. "Y'know, as a personal trainer and stuff?"

“No, of course not.” Morgan wrapped an arm around Noah's shoulders and kissed his forehead. “Your mental health is the most important thing ever. And you seem to be struggling with yours today. Are you sure you don't want to tell me what's wrong? I love you, Noah, you can talk to me about anything you're comfortable with.”

The bitter sensation returned to Noah's throat, stronger than ever. His shoulders shook. His ribs rattled. Water began to pour profusely from his eyes. Breathing had become a taxing affair. Noah clung to Morgan's shirt and cried for the first time in over fifteen years.

“Oh! Oh, Noah.” Morgan wrapped him in a rib-crushing hug and stroking his back soothingly. “It's ok. What's wrong?”

“I, I, I don't know!” Noah exclaimed, trying to figure out how to breath around the sobs. He considered himself an inexperienced crier. "I have, have such strong feeling, such, such... I don't know what to do about it. I don't know, I don't, I, I... They're such horrible, horrible emotions, I don't want them! I want my happy emotions back, my, my, my medication must be wrong!" He couldn't have felt more pathetic, soaking Morgan's shirt with tears, but he still hesitated before adding quietly, “Is my depression getting worse?”

“I don't think so,” Morgan murmured softly. “I don't think so at all. Feeling things strongly is a good sign. Recovery doesn't always mean feeling happier more often, it's feeling everything more often. Sorry but you're probably going to feel worse for a while before you feel better.” He nuzzled Noah's hair. "Are you sure there's nothing you want to talk about? I promise this is the last time I'll ask, then I'll make some lunch."

A fresh tsunami of tears surged from Noah's eyes and he grabbed handfuls of Morgan's shirt. "I'm so pathetic," he sobbed, hoping that stating aloud his own stupidity would cure his hysteria. "I want to tell you what's wrong, but it's so dumb."

"Of course it isn't," Morgan soothed. "Yesterday I cried because I couldn't open the tinned corn. Nothing you say will be silly."

"I remember that," Noah smirked. "It was funny. And sad. Sorry."

"No problem. I completely agree!"

"Ok, ok." Noah took deep breaths and tried to figure out what he was feeling. People had spent the past eighteen years of Noah's life telling him he was just sad, when actually he hadn't been sad at all. What he'd really felt was nothing. Nothing when he watched his favourite film. Nothing when his mum died. Nothing when he stared out at the ocean and decided he was sick of life. Sadness was incomparable with the pain of nothingness. But that wasn't what he felt now. Now he was alive with emotion; bitter, painful, rib-wracking emotion.

"I think," Noah said slowly, trying to keep the quiver out of his voice, "That I feel uncomfortable. And dissatisfied. And inferior. Physically of course, because I'm a genius."

Morgan kissed the top of head. "You certainly are."

"And I don't usually feel like this. Not this strongly, anyway, it's usually just a kind of self-depreciating humour. But I don't know what's wrong today." He paused, patiently awaiting Morgan's response, before realising he hadn't told him the actual issue. "I feel bad for being fat."

“Aww, Noah.” Morgan hugged him even tighter, wrapping his arms around his waist. Noah let him; it was quite comforting to know that despite any reservations Noah may have about himself Morgan would love him anyway. "You shouldn't have to feel like that at all. There's nothing wrong with being fat, especially since you're so healthy. This means your medication is working well though. It's making you motivated and emotional, which isn't always a good thing. You'll have to re-learn how to use your motivation in moderation, or else you'll exhaust yourself. And while we're at it you can un-learn all these nasty stereotypes about fat people, because learning about how amazing you are is always good for your self-esteem."

Noah heard and took on board what Morgan was saying, but he had always been stubborn and unwilling to listen to others. "I feel like shit right now though," he sighed. "Really shitty. Like absolute crap. Absolutely disgusting." He was half fishing for compliments and half telling the truth, but that didn't matter; Morgan would oblige either way.

"Can I show my work book?" Or not.

"What?"

"I think you need to see my work book. Hold on." Morgan rummaged in a rucksack behind him, eventually producing an A3 book with a black cover. "This is my calculations' book, I consult all my notes and text books before writing anything in here. It's exceptionally scientific." He lay it flat on the table then indicated that Noah should open it.

He lifted the cover, revealing the creamy, textured paper of a sketch pad filled with equations and Arabic lettering and two drawings of a middle-aged man. One drawing, the smaller one in the top right corner, was diminished, sickly-looking. The larger drawing in the middle of the page was healthy, robust, glowing.

"This isn't science," Noah said. That didn't mean he was any less impressed. Morgan's drawings were sketchy, unclean lines and visible under sketches, but his anatomy was perfect and his expressions characterised and realistic.

"No," Morgan chuckled, "Those aren't science, they're the result of my science."

"I didn't know you were such a good artist," Noah gawked, finding the drawings only improved as he turned the pages.

"Oh, umm, oh thank you," Morgan blushed. "They're, they're nothing, really. I'm not as creative as you. Sorry." Noah wondered if he sounded as stupid as that when he put himself down. Morgan was obviously insanely talented.

"That's silly, these are great," Noah grinned. "Who are they? All these people?" Each page took almost the same format as the first one; two drawings of the same person, a small, decrepit one in the corner and a much happier, healthier one in the middle, all annotated.

“This-“ Morgan pointed to the smaller sketch, “Is a picture of my client, and this-“ The larger image, “Is more or less what my client would look like at their peak physical and mental health. Obviously I factor in personal preference, what exercises they excel in, and several scientific tests. Just so I know what I'm working towards.” He shrugged awkwardly and stared down at his hands. “My English wasn't so good when I first moved to California, I wasn't fluent. My family had always spoken Arabic in New England. I had to find other ways to understand my work.”

“I really like them,” Noah said with great enthusiasm. “They're cute.”

“Oh.” Morgan brightened. “Then can I show you this one?” Sliding the book from Noah's grasp, he turned towards the back then offered a page to Noah.

"O-oh." He lifted the book up, captivated by the miniature caricature of himself. It was fascinating to see himself through Morgan's eyes; soft hair, bright eyes, gently curving pencil strokes that made him look sweet. His sweater was clean and unwrinkled, his freckles nothing short of a constellation. He did, however, still have his usual frown plastered across his face.

"Wh-why am I so grumpy?" Noah asked, too overwhelmed to question any of the picture's positives.

“Because you're always so grumpy.” Morgan kissed his cheek and he laughed. “Well, most of the time, anyway.”

Noah surveyed the rest of the page. He recognised the Arabic word for 'boyfriend' inside a small heart, which made him smile, but the rest of the page was relatively free of annotations. "Why's there only one drawing of me?" He questioned. "Where's the super fit, healthy one?"

"This is the super fit, healthy one," Morgan grinned, wrapping Noah in an enthusiastic hug. "Because there's nothing wrong with your physical health. You're young and fit and a nice, healthy weight-"

Noah scoffed.

"Well, ok," Morgan continued nervously, "You wouldn't die if you lost a little bit of weight, but it wouldn't do you any good either. That's what being healthy is. You could lose or gain a bit of weight and it wouldn't matter. Noah, you have soft cheeks and clear eyes and strong teeth, you're brilliantly healthy. And your mental health has been improving lately, which is literally the most important factor of anyone's health, so that's amazing."

Noah's eyes flooded with tears again, but this time they were accompanied by a light feeling of relief. Crying felt good for once, refreshing, and Noah revelled in it. He hugged Morgan, pressing himself firmly against his chest, and whispered 'thank you' over and over. Morgan smiled and told him not to worry about it. The sadness was dissolving now, but rather than dissipating back into nothing it was giving way to small sparks of happiness.

"Well," Morgan said eventually, "This has been an emotional rollercoaster. I think you deserve a nice, relaxing day after that." Noah wanted to disagree, but having an actual emotion had made him so bone weary all he could do was nod. "Great! I'll make some pasta, you can go settle down on the couch." Noah must have looked on the verge of another breakdown, because he quickly added, "Don't worry, it'll be healthy pasta."

It was that time of day when most people were at work and all the shows that were airing were for old people or toddlers or were so boring and mind-numbingly awful that no one would dare play them any other time of day. He settled on a nature documentary about hippos, Morgan's favourite animal, and tried to figure out why they held such appeal. They were aggressive, lumbering creatures that fought and slept and were only really impressive when they swam.

Somehow the narrator still had something to say about hippos by the time Morgan sat down beside Noah, setting a bowl of pasta in his lap. "Why do you even like hippos?" He asked aggressively. "They're just fat, angry creatures with gappy teeth." He ran his tongue over the small gap between his front teeth. "Oh."

"Hippos are brilliant, fascinating creatures," Morgan enthused. "They're cute and funny and really good at swimming. Oh! And they're the most adorable babies, I love baby hippos so much!" Morgan seemed to have missed Noah's sudden realisation that he was, in fact, a hippo but his words were comforting enough anyway.

Noah shuffled over until he could lean comfortably against Morgan's arm, then dug in to his pasta. It was spicy and topped with cheese and probably not healthy at all but he didn't care. When he'd finished he stared helplessly at Morgan.

"You can have some more pasta," Morgan chuckled. "I'll go get you some."

He gave Noah another bowl of pasta topped with more cheese, along with a kiss on the cheek and an invitation to cuddle up even closer. He draped an arm around Noah's waist, pulling him against his side. Noah had to smile a little as he said, "I like being chubby."

"Yeah?" Morgan looked exceptionally proud of him.

"Yeah. Because I'm really soft so you always want to cuddle me. I like that sappy shit." He paused for a moment. "Thank you, Morgan. You're so nice and helpful I... I don't know what, or who, I'd be doing without you. Thanks."

"There's no need to thank me, Noah. You're amazing and I love you and you deserve to get better. Plus, and this is really selfish but, making people happy makes me feel really good. When I say something that makes you laugh, it's just the best feeling."

Noah leaned in and kissed Morgan. "That is the best feeling."

"Yeah," Morgan smiled warmly. "That I can agree on."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	11. I don’t even know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been on tumblr for ages, it’s just a short, sappy thing I wrote for an anon and forgot to upload. I don’t even know.

The moonlight dappled Noah's hair like it did the ocean. Morgan couldn't tear his eyes away. He knew as soon as Noah caught him staring he'd tell him to stop 'creeping on him' and blush and turn away, but for now the ocean was receiving Noah's full attention, so Morgan could stare all he wanted.

 

Originally his crush on Noah had been, against all better judgement, purely for aesthetic reasons. He'd never been captivated by someone's eyes like he had Noah's; they were as deep and intricate as the night sky. His hair was always tousled in that cute way that made him look like a rockstar (thought really he just didn't brush it). Morgan was ashamed to admit he'd once walked into a wall watching Noah fix up on old VCR unit. There was something captivating about the way his brow furrowed and he pursed his lips as he worked.

 

After their first proper conversation Morgan knew he'd fallen in love with him. Not only was Noah gorgeous but he was soft, caring, human. Morgan had memorised the sound of his laugh and the way his lip curled as he smirked and the feel of his body pressed against Morgan's as they hugged. He'd thought it was stupid to fall for someone so utterly unattainable but he couldn't help it. Love was stupid like that.

 

Morgan thought his life couldn't get any better than the moment Noah had first kissed him, but he'd been exponentially wrong. Every single day after that had been an improvement on the last, Morgan felt privileged to be allowed such happiness.

 

"Dude!" Noah was knee deep in the sea, now staring accusingly back at Morgan. "Quit creeping on me, what're you doing?"

 

"I'm in love with you," Morgan replied sheepishly, wading out beside Noah.

 

"I know that, you massive, giant dork." Noah leant against his shoulder and kissed his cheek. "I love you too."

 

Morgan sighed contentedly and whispered, "Hick believed our purpose on earth was to develop our souls and try to reduce our epistemic distance from God. I don't believe in God. Or souls. Or purpose. But I think if we did have a purpose mine would be to love you."

 

Noah was quiet for a long time, taking a few shaky breaths as if he was about to cry, until he said, "I think my purpose is to eat fries. I like fries." He turned around and buried his head in Morgan's chest. "Really, really love fries."

 

"You massive, giant dork," Morgan grinned, trying to copy Noah's accent. That had them both giggling. "I know you do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :)


	12. Fancy Party

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

 

Noah couldn't believe the words that had just come out of his mouth. Since when was he the sensible, rational one in this relationship? He was still trailing up a hill behind Morgan, wearing a silly costume, and wondering if he'd remembered to take his meds, so not much else had changed, but it still felt weird.

 

"This is an excellent idea," Morgan beamed, pausing to grab Noah's hand and pull him more quickly up the hill. "I can't believe Kathleen invited us to a fancy party, she's the most famous person I know!"

 

"Actually, she invited you to a fancy party, not your weirdo boyfriend. And she's a football player's ex-wife, how rich can she- Ho-oly shit!" Noah stopped suddenly, jolting Morgan to a stop too. "Is that her house?" He swung Morgan's arm excitedly. "Is that her house? Is that her house? You seriously work here and you didn't tell me?"

 

House was the wrong word. It was a mansion, the size of two houses, shrouded in palm trees and perfectly trimmed hedges, guarded by the kind of gate only rich people needed. It probably had a pool. It probably had two pools. It definitely had a balcony, Noah could see the elegant wrought iron from his position behind the rich-person-gate.

 

"I only work here sometimes." Morgan carefully let go of Noah's hand before his arm got ripped off. "Anyway, I thought you hated rich people."

 

"Oh, I do." Noah's eyes were alight with mischief. He grabbed hold of Morgan's lapels, leaning in close. Morgan closed his eyes, expecting Noah to kiss him. Instead he whispered, "Let's steal something!"

 

"What?" Morgan backed up. "Noah, no!"

 

"See, told you this was a bad idea," Noah stressed. "I don't know how to act around people." People spoke a lot about nothing, as far as Noah was concerned. They asked how you were, then seemed offended when you replied honestly.

 

"No, we don't know how to act around people. I don't think we've ever been on a proper date. Do you know how much I quote David Hume when I get nervous? It's a lot. And," he tugged at the cape Noah had given him, making it swish around his ankles, "I'm dressed as The Phantom of the Opera. That's not a very 'me' thing. If I don't blow this for myself you'll definitely blow it for me by stealing something. Sorry."

 

"Did you just apologise for not letting me steal from someone?" Noah grinned. "You'll be fine, I promise I won't do anything to embarrass you." He reached out to press the buzzer, which was surely one of the many unlabelled buttons on the keypad. One that was larger than the others and well-worn seemed like a safe bet, so Noah pressed it. An alarm began to wail immediately.

 

"Aaah, I've screwed this up already," Noah yelled. "I'm sorry!"

 

"No, it's ok, I totally would've done the same thing!" Morgan replied.

 

The gate began to slide open, cutting the alarm off, and a woman adorned in a ballroom dress and masquerade mask came into view. She raised her mask to gaze critically at Morgan, frowned a little, then decided he was acceptable. Then she turned the full force of her glare to Noah.

 

"Oh... What a... Unique masquerade! Come inside, I'm sure Kathleen will be..." She frowned again, then just laughed as if she hadn't left her sentence hanging.

 

As they walked across an immaculately tiled drive filled with the kind of cars you stop on the street to stare at, lined with more perfect palm trees, Morgan leaned in and whispered, "Noah, what does masquerade mean? It's a costume, isn't it."

 

"Yeah but, like, a fancy costume. Like, a suit and a colourful mask." Noah was beaming ear to ear. He was dressed in a Happy Noodle Boy shirt, skinny jeans, and a trench coat lined with fake knives. His hair had been straightened, by Morgan, within an inch of its life then slicked down at the sides to give the appearance of being shaved. The top part had then been gelled, and subsequently sprayed with almost an entire can of hairspray, until it resembled something like bunny ears.

 

It would've been one thing to show up to the party without a costume, but it was another thing altogether to show up dressed as a homicidal maniac. Noah was having a great time.

 

"I'm so sorry," Morgan hissed. "She said this word I didn't understand, but I'd heard you call your old Halloween costume a masquerade, so I just assumed it was a costume. At least we'll both be embarrassed."

 

"Actually, you're dressed as literally the masquerade character. A little tacky but hey, that's my fault, I let you dress yourself."

 

Morgan smiled at him. He really wasn't capable of scowling.

 

"But don't be sorry," Noah continued. "I think this is really cool. And my costume rocks. And I promise I'll be cool about it."

 

Morgan looked like he wanted to say something else but they were already inside, being led through a darkened atrium, then into... Noah didn't have a word for this room, he'd never been to a house with one before. It was a large room of nothing, its only purpose seeming to be to house the grand staircase. Currently it was filled with people milling around and taking food from servers.

 

"Morgan!" A lady in a much simpler, more practical dress than the rest of the guests rushed over to clasp Morgan's face in her hands. "Oh honey, I'm so glad you could come, the kids are devastated to have missed you." She dropped Morgan's face and grabbed Noah's. "Oh, and you must be Noah, I'm Kathleen, Morgan literally never stops talking about you, I love your hair, what do you call that?"

 

"Uuh." Noah backed up a little so Kathleen was no longer squishing his cheeks. "Jhonen Vasquez style."

 

"Cute!" She whipped round suddenly to grab a tray from a server. "Honey, I've got this, you go fetch another one, alright?" The befuddled server staggered away. "Why hire wait staff if you're not willing to put the effort in yourself, am I right?" Noah didn't think a single person at this party would say she was right. "Well, you boys go mingle, go have some fun, I'll catch up in a bit." Then she twirled away to serve blinis.

 

"Well," Noah nodded slowly to himself, "She's a character. But probably the nicest person in the room." He latched onto Morgan's arm. "Aside from you, of course."

 

"You don't need to suck up, you can go use the chocolate fountain," Morgan grinned.

 

"Thank you. I love you," Noah called over his shoulder, already making a beeline for the chocolate fountain. It was set on a table with a pure white silk covering, and Noah could only think that that was a terrible idea. He plucked a fancy champagne glass from the top of a pyramid and stuck it under the fountain. Chocolate slopped into the glass, as well as down its stem, over his hand, and onto his fake-blood-soaked sleeve. Noah quickly retracted the glass, then licked some of the chocolate from its rim when he thought no one was looking.

 

"Hi!"

 

"Ah!" Noah jumped as someone tapped him on the shoulder and dropped his chocolate-glass. "Fuck, sorry, let me just-" He started to bend down but the same person who had just ambushed grabbed his elbow and pulled him up.

 

"Oh, no, don't worry about it." The lady started to pull him away, despite his protests. She had a jewel-encrusted mask covering most of her face. "A server'll get that."

 

"I really don't feel comfortable-" Noah started, but a tuxedoed young man was already dutifully sweeping up the sticky shards of Noah's glass. He relented, but impatiently. "What?"

 

"Hi!" The lady said again. "I'm Ana, you might know me from things such as-"

 

"Nope," Noah interrupted.

 

"I'm sorry."

 

"I don't watch TV," Noah said. Then quickly added, "Or YouTube, or listen to the radio, or music, or use social media." He thought that pulling his phone out right now to check his YouTube account would be a total power move, but was too anxious to pull it off in reality.

 

"That's, that's fine," Ana continued, now slightly unsure of herself. "I just saw you with that guy over there-" She pointed to an empty space, "Y'know, Kathleen's trainer, Morgan is it?" She didn't give Noah time to confirm that it was. "And just wanted to ask you, how is he?"

 

How is he? Noah's brain faltered; there were simultaneously zero and a million answers to her question. Nothing about her tone or stance indicated what Ana wanted to know, so Noah went with a standard, "Fine, thanks."

 

"No." Ana laughed and Noah was offended. He'd tried his best to answer her inane question. She lowered her voice, fixed Noah with an intense stare, and tried again, "How is he?"

 

Oh. Noah knew what that meant. "Like, in bed? He's great. Plays with my hair and stuff. I like it."

 

Noah couldn't read Ana's expression under her mask, but he knew he was feeling more at ease with the conversation. He could, and often did, talk about how much he loved Morgan for hours.

 

"Oh," Ana said, almost like a gasp. "I didn't know he was umm..." She trailed off.

 

Although he wasn't the best at social cues Noah knew what people were usually getting at when they did that. "Gay? Yeah."

 

"Yeah?" Ana exhaled. "But he, he works with Kathleen..."

 

"Oh, sure, he isn't fussy about that. He's not sexist or anything. And anyway, this is just a job," Noah shrugged.

 

"Do you know what kind of stuff he does?" She sighed. "I'm so shocked, wow."

 

"Umm, ok." Noah rolled his eyes. Weird rich person. "I dunno, he's great. He does different things with everyone, depending on what they like. He's the best. I think he's the best."

 

"Wow," Ana said again. "I just can't believe Morgan's a-" She lowered her voice, "Prostitute."

 

"Prostitute?" Noah exclaimed, earning himself a lot of unwanted attention. "Morgan is not a prostitute!"

 

"But, but," Ana spluttered, face bright red. "But you said you've slept with him!"

 

"Yeah, like shared a bed! He's my boyfriend!" The word seemed too infantile for the weight behind Noah's voice. He'd never thought about marriage before in his life, but suddenly he felt the urge to call Morgan his husband.

 

"Well, I asked 'how is he?' and you started talking about sleeping together, why would you do that?" Ana looked so ashamed Noah would've felt awful for her, if he wasn't so busy feeling awful for himself.

 

"Because I don't know how to talk to people! And you did that voice! And he's my boyfrie- oh." Noah paused, cringed, and hung his head a little. "You, you thought he was a prostitute because you couldn't believe he was my boyfriend."

 

"No, that's not, umm-" Ana tried.

 

"It's ok, it's ok," Noah said. "I can't believe he's my boyfriend either." He started to walk away, then remembered he was suppose to make a good impression on these people, for Morgan's sake. "Morgan's a great personal trainer, and a great person. You should still give him a call, even thought his boyfriend's a weirdo."

 

~

 

Morgan had hoped to spend the entirety of the party minding his own business, that or talking to Noah, but apparently he was in demand. Kathleen talked highly of him, and within a few minutes he had handfuls or business cards and had promised to call several rich people whose names, and faces, he couldn’t remember.

 

The crowds had finally died down a little and Morgan was hoping to wander off and get a glass of water when someone tapped him on the shoulder. A Gucci suit sidled up beside him. “Look at that guy, am I right?” He chuckled, gesturing at a very bewildered Noah trying to clear up a broken glass. “What kind of idiot mistakes a masquerade for a costume party. Someone really uneducated.”

 

Morgan flushed. He didn’t even feel insulted, just awful that he’d made Noah the butt of someone’s joke.

 

“Well, maybe when someone doesn’t speak English they could misunderstand,” he offered.

 

“Oh, yeah, these bloody immigrants.” The man laughed like he’d made a joke. “Muslims, am I right?”

 

Never before in his life had Morgan been prouder that he was half Muslim. “Noah is an American citizen, and he’s Jewish. I am the Muslim immigrant.”

 

“Hey dude.” The man held his hands up, as if Morgan could ever hurt him. “I was just being friendly, no need to be rude.”

 

“O-oh.” Morgan’s face fell. He didn’t want to be rude. “I’m-“

 

Noah, face scrunched in rage and bunny-hair slightly askew, shoved Morgan lightly to the side. “Fuck you, motherfucker,” he said accusingly to the man’s face.

 

The man started to engage in a scathing comeback but Noah shut him up. “No, shut up, Brad. I’m going to call you Brad, you look like a Brad, don’t all white Americans just look like they’re called Brad? Can’t we just generalise a whole race of people? Isn’t that funny, Brad?”

 

‘Brad’ looked gobsmacked. “We’re going now,” Noah huffed, walking away and expecting Morgan to follow him.

 

~

 

“I’m sorry for being so rude,” Noah mumbled as they huddled at the base of the staircase.

 

“No, no, it’s fine, it’s great,” Morgan garbled hurriedly, placing a hand on Noah’s shoulder. “I don’t think I’m very good at being rude.”

 

“I don’t think I’m very good at mixing at parties.”

 

"We're both bad at that, huh?" Morgan smiled gently.

 

"Yeah, I'm sorry." Noah shrugged, looking down at his fake ballroom shoes.

 

"No, it's ok." Morgan's eyes lit up and he grabbed Noah's hand. "Come on, let me show you something." He led him up the grand staircase and along the inner balcony to a room at the front of the house. There were fewer people up the stairs and the door was closed, but Morgan seemed confident and Noah knew he'd never do anything he wasn't suppose to.

 

The room was filled with exercise equipment, like Morgan's front yard, but Morgan's front yard was a thrift store T-shirt and this was a diamontied wedding dress. However Morgan ignored the room and lead Noah over to the floor to ceiling window, which he then opened. It led onto a balcony, which seemed like it lead onto the rest of the world.

 

“It’s… It’s super cool,” Noah whispered, gripping onto Morgan’s sleeve to he could peer over the balcony.

 

“You can see so much of California from here,” Morgan enthused. “And look, look!” He crouched a little to press his cheek against Noah’s and point into the distance, a dark area dotted with tiny, dim lights. “That’s where we live!”

 

“Cool,” Noah breathed. He stared at the distant trailer park that had once been his entire world. Now his entire world was curled around his back, kissing him on the cheek.

 

“Noah, can I ask you a question?” Morgan asked. Noah nodded. “Is my English bad?”

 

“What?” Noah exclaimed. “No! Your English is great. It’s brilliant! It’s better than mine!” He took both of Morgan’s hands, allowing Morgan to rest his head on his shoulder. “Is this about the masquerade thing? Because most native English speakers don’t even know what that means.” He kissed him on the cheek. “You’re perfect, Morgan.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

Morgan leaned down and kissed him. Somewhere beyond grey clouds the moon was shining, and beyond the moon was the rest of the universe. Noah smiled. The rest of the universe was watching them kiss.

 

He leaned back suddenly, breathless and heart hammering and eyes wide. Morgan cocked his head in an enquiring manner, the words ‘are you ok?’ already forming on his lips. Noah didn’t give him the chance to ask. Instead he did something frustratingly rash, which was not unusual for him at all.

 

“Will you marry me?”

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is everyonewholovesmehasdied if you want to tell me how much you hated this or have any prompts. I'm working on some stuff at the moment but then I should have a few weeks before exams start again.
> 
> Also, tubofskippy on tumblr drew a pictures of ma boys and it's absolutely amazing so you should check that out :D
> 
> Thanks for reading


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